


The Program

by yeaka



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Collars, Dom/sub Undertones, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-11
Updated: 2019-07-18
Packaged: 2020-06-26 13:49:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 24,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19769500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Prompto should really have an alpha for the school year.





	1. Pick

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I’m thinking of continuing this, so that’s what the Ignis/Noctis/Prompto tag is for. If I don’t end up doing that, I’ll re-tag it accordingly. Fair warning that if I do continue, the rating will most likely go up to **E** , and new tags will come.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Final Fantasy XV or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

For the first few seconds after Prompto wakes up, he’s fine.

Then he remembers what day it is, and his mood spirals right down.

He has half a mind to stay in bed. He _could_ —his parents are still away, like they almost always are, and he already quit his job under the too optimistic pretense that he’d be going to university. But the semester starts in a week, and he still hasn’t heard back from the sponsorship program. 

He could go anyway, of course. He doesn’t technically _need_ an alpha’s collar to pursue the photography courses that he wants. But since he doesn’t have anyone to come home to or any friends to call, it’s hard to muster that confidence. If something _does_ happen to him, he’ll be all on his own. There’s a reason Insomnia’s best university recommends some sort of alpha contract. An unmarked omega wandering the halls with a bunch of young, stressed-out alphas is taking an enormous risk. 

Prompto doesn’t know any alphas he could ask to sponsor him. He had a few coworkers at the gas station, but he didn’t get to know any of them well enough to wear their collar, even on the temporary basis the university recommends. After a lengthy phone call full of his parents’ advice and encouragement, he did submit his application to the sponsorship program. Plenty of alphas apply to it too, hoping to have someone they can direct their bristling hormones at instead of the general populous. It’s just safer for everyone.

But the summer’s flown by, and no one’s chosen Prompto. Which is about what he’d expected. It’s tempting to just stay in bed and wallow in that.

But Prompto’s not that sort of man. He pushed through his lonely upbringing, his weight loss, his dead-end job, saving up enough to afford university in the first place, and he can survive a depressingly existential morning. So he kicks the sheets off in style and sits up. The first thing he does once he’s out of bed is throw open the curtains, vainly hoping the sun will give him the strength to go on. It sort of helps. 

The rest of the morning is uneventful. He has a shower, gets dressed, toasts frozen waffles, and glances at the phone in the hopes that it’ll ring. He rarely calls his parents first—he doesn’t want to bother them. They’re doing important research in Altissia. They occasionally call when they get the chance. He likes talking to them, but on second thought, he doesn’t want to have to give them an update on his life: maybe it’s better they don’t hear that they raised a mess no one wants. Then he goes online and hovers over the textbooks his perspective courses have listed. He’s already been accepted for the program he wants. He can go alone if he wants. He just doesn’t know if he wants to. The books are _crazy_ expensive, even used copies, and it’s way too much to blow if he’s just going to bail out a month in when some asshole alpha jumps him and he’s forced to knock them out because he doesn’t know how to act. Then he’ll get expelled, they’ll call his parents, it’ll go on his permanent record, and he’ll die alone. 

On the other hand. _Photography._ He loves his camera. He’s willing to pay for the extra equipment he’ll need, albeit only the lower-end stuff he can afford. He wants to get better. He wants to start a professional business. He doesn’t want to be a cashier ever again. 

In the end, his fear wins out. He doesn’t order any books. He wanders into the living room and wonders if he can justify just playing games all day. Or maybe he’ll go out for a run. He could go shopping and gaze longingly at the new equipment he’d need for his courses. He even physically walks to the hallway. 

The mail’s on the floor. 

His eyes skim right over the familiar-looking bills and fliers. 

There’s a letter amongst them, stamped with a black and gold seal. 

Curious, Prompto collects the whole pile, sorting through it as he brings it back to the appointed mail chair in the living room where he dumps all the stuff for his parents. The bills he plucks out to pay himself. The fliers he recycles. He holds the letter over the mail-chair, only to realize that it’s addressed to him. 

Confused, he opens it. His eyes skim the page. It doesn’t sink in, because it can’t be real, it’s got to be a prank—he reads it over again, then a third time just to look for typos or bogus wording that’ll signal it’s a fake. 

An alpha actually chose him. 

He’s going to be sponsored by _Prince Noctis._

Suddenly dizzy, Prompto manages to sit down before he passes out. The house phone rings. When he finally manages to get up and answer it on the fourth ring, he tells his mother he’s going to pursue his dream like she wanted, and she says she can hear his smile through his tears.


	2. Meet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Yeah yeah I’ve written this a dozen times, I know. XD Rating is for later chapters, sorry.

It’s a beautiful autumn day, and if he weren’t carting the prince around, he’d put the top down. His new car is sleek and efficient, _almost_ as top-of-the-line as the Regalia, and it comes with all the same security features. Even if the tinted windows block out most of the sun’s warmth, Ignis reminds himself that there are plus sides to their concealment. For starters, the rest of the population can’t look in and see how sullen their prince gets when something doesn’t go his way. 

He’s currently slumped against the passenger side window, pouting blankly into the distance. With both hands on the wheel and both eyes forward, Ignis coolly reminds him, “You needed a second omega anyway.”

“I’ve got you, don’t I?” Noctis grumbles. It’s the same argument they’ve had a hundred times, or at least, the same discussion they’ve hinted at—their talks never seem to actually go anywhere when it comes to expanding their pack. Noctis just gets twitchy and stubborn and trails off, as though the whole subject is a personal attack on him and his worth as an alpha. That’s not what Ignis is saying. Noctis is a perfectly adequate partner on his own. 

But, as Ignis has pointed out before, “I work, Noct. And I do far more work than you could possibly imagine. I simply don’t have the time to take care of you as fully as you deserve.”

“So I get laid less than I want. Whatever.”

Sometimes it takes incredible patience to deal with Noctis. This is one of those moments. Ignis is still vividly aware of why it took him so long to ask for Noctis’ collar when he knew they had a connection from the moment they first met. He glances sideways at his handsome partner and reminds himself that he does love this irritating man. He quips, “Most nobles your age are starting to form harems.”

Noctis shrugs. “Gladio isn’t.”

“ _Gladio_ prefers to keep his options open. You, as the crown prince under constant scrutiny, don’t have that luxury.” Noctis just grunts. For once, the press doesn’t actually matter—even if Noctis could freely flitter between omegas, he wouldn’t. He’d stay at home, waiting up for Ignis, and just get quietly bitter when Ignis inevitably arrived late due to a commitment both to Noctis’ position itself and the betterment of the country. Ignis continues, “If you’d been willing to attend university immediately after high school, as your father wished, our classes might have at least overlapped. But since you’ve dragged your feet and I’ve since graduated, you won’t have me on campus to keep your hormones in check. You know we can’t afford an incident.”

Noctis doesn’t comment on stalling with schooling—they both know he didn’t go on time _because_ his father wanted him to. Instead, he insists, “I won’t have an incident.”

“No, you won’t, because we’re going to get an omega we’ve already thoroughly investigated for you to focus your energy on.”

Noctis doesn’t say anything, just silently fumes, while Ignis pulls neatly into one of the few vacant parking spots. The lot’s already packed, even though classes don’t start until next Monday—students are already flooding in to complete registration, purchase books, and attend orientation. All of Noctis’ paperwork and supplies have already been sorted, precisely because Ignis does work so much. He doesn’t bother mentioning that if Noctis did step up in the responsibility department, Ignis _would_ have more time to satiate his other needs. They are what they are, and as wonderful as they are, they’re missing something.

Ignis has already taken care of that too, and he imagines that in a short while, Noctis will thank him for it. 

They file out of the car and head for the building, Ignis toting a small case from the trunk. He’s already thoroughly familiar with the campus, but Noctis looks curiously around. His gaze tends to linger more on other alpha students than the buildings themselves. There are a few unclaimed omegas wandering nervously around, but Noctis doesn’t give any of them a second look. The omegas that do sport collars are noticeably more confident. Noctis doesn’t look at them either. Ignis files every one of Noctis’ glances away in the back of his mind. He already knows what Noctis likes, but he can’t turn off the instinct to keep working on his mental files anyway. He doubts he’ll ever get over the need to learn about and aid Noctis. It only made sense for them to bond—he could never pay another alpha as much attention as he still would his prince. 

Hopefully, that work will all pay off when Noctis sees who Ignis has chosen for him. As they climb the stairs in the main administrative building, a gathering outside the large windows catches Ignis’ eye. The omega orientation is starting. Their new omega is probably down there, but Ignis has no intention of bringing Noctis—an attractive, rich, and famous alpha—amongst a sea of waiting suitors. It’s wiser to do things in private.

So they meet with the dean directly, who the secretary in the office is happy to take them to. Though the dean’s in the middle of a phone call, she swiftly ends it when she sees them. Once she’s hung up, she offers Noctis a wide smile and even pulls out a chair for him. She’s easily identifiable as an alpha, but Noctis is still considerably higher up the hierarchy, even if they’re currently on her turf. 

She greets them, gushes over how pleased she is that Noctis is attending her school, and promises whatever accommodations they need. They leave with directions to an empty room and reassurances of security. They make their own way to said unoccupied classroom, where Noctis chooses a seat at random amidst the many scattered tables. He gives Ignis one last _look_ before Ignis leaves his case on the nearest countertop and goes to fetch Noctis’ new omega-to-be. A part of Ignis wonders if Noctis will even be there when he gets back, but then he reminds himself that they’re not children anymore, and Noctis won’t run away from what he must know is the best thing for both of them. 

The field outside is laden with little stands and posters, flyers stapled to every surface and littering the grass. There are several crowds of omegas clustered around different speakers, but Ignis has a relatively easy time locating the one he wants—true blonds are rare in the capitol city. Since school hasn’t technically started and no one’s in uniform yet, it also helps that his target is wearing all black with red checkered trim—a unique style amongst the other soft, plush, and pastel-laden omegas. Ignis approaches him whilst he’s hovering at the back of a crowd, blue eyes fixed forward. Just a few steps away, Ignis pauses to take him in. 

The blond is about Noctis’ height, trim but toned, pink-skinned, with bright hair styled in spikes and a myriad of freckles scattered across his angular face. When he notices Ignis, he glances over, and their eyes connect. Ignis feels an immediate, surprising reaction. Ignis poured through all the photos in this omega’s submission form. But he’s even cuter in person.

Noctis will like him. Ignis is sure of it. After all, they have fairly similar taste when it comes to men. If Ignis feels an instant spark, Noctis will too. 

Ignis offers his hand and asks, just to be absolutely sure, “Prompto Argentum?”

“Yes...?” Prompto answers, taking Ignis’ hand with a quizzical look on his cute face. Ignis gives him a curt shake and drops away. 

“My name is Ignis Scientia.” Recognition flickers in Prompto’s eyes—though Ignis, of course, had his proposal approved by both the king and council, he was the one to draft and sign the letter sent to Prompto. “I work with His Highness. If you’re interested in his offer of sponsorship, I’d like you to follow me.”

Prompto’s eyes go adorably wide, and he splutters, “Yeah, sure! I mean—I’m totally interested! Uh, that is... lead the way!”

Though short, the colloquial dialogue amuses Ignis—it’s clear that Prompto doesn’t speak at all like the more ‘proper’, noble omegas that hang around the Citadel just to paw at Noctis. That should be another point in Prompto’s favour. 

When Ignis turns to go, Prompto falls into step, lingering just behind him. Ignis figures it’s a show of respect, even though there’s no need to give him any shows of submission: he’s just as much an omega as Prompto is. He regularly takes suppressants to keep his troublesome hormones in check, but he’s sure he’s still easily identifiable. He might be intimidating anyway—he’s dressed more formally and impeccably than the staff members they pass, and Noctis has often teased him about his ‘hoity-toity’ accent. In an effort to make himself less so, he asks Prompto on the way, “Do you game, by any chance?”

“Game?” Prompto dazedly repeats. While his submission form didn’t exactly spell out any interest in video games, Ignis did feel it was implied from the skills and hobbies listed. He’s not surprised when Prompto nods. “Y-yeah! I mean, I have a few—but, like, I work—er, worked—so I don’t have as much time as I’d like—not that I would all the time; I’m not lazy! I mostly just, uh, play King’s Knight on my phone when I can—not that I’m always glued to my phone—!”

Ignis decides to put the poor thing out of his misery and interrupts, “It’s a fantastic game, really. I daresay its production values rival even some of the better console games.”

Prompto looks gob smacked and weakly agrees, “Y... yeah...”

Ignis offers a comforting smile, then turns back around, because they’ve reached their destination. He opens the door for Prompto, ushering him into the classroom. 

Noctis, slumped in one of the chairs with his feet up on the table, glances over. Prompto instantly freezes, and Ignis has to physically nudge him into the room in order to shut the door. 

Ignis watches with no small amount of pride as the bulk of Noctis’ icy demeanor visibly melts away. He looks at Prompto for a long moment before letting his eyes trail down Prompto’s lean body, then back up again, where he connects their eyes. Ignis feels like he can _hear_ Prompto’s heart racing at light speed. The instinctive chemistry is obvious on both ends. 

Ignis gives Prompto another small nudge, and Prompto lurches back to life, strutting forward with an awkward air of forced casualness. He moves as though he’s going to take a seat next to Noctis, then hesitates and looks at Noctis as though waiting for permission, then hurriedly sits down anyway. Ignis quietly fetches the case and comes over to pull up a third chair. 

Since the two men actually involved in the sponsorship seem too busy ogling one another to break the ice, Ignis introduces for them. “Prompto, as I’m sure you’re aware, this is His Highness, Prince Noctis. Noct, this is Prompto Argentum, the omega I’ve selected for you. A thorough background check has already been conducted, and I’ve prepared all of the necessary paperwork required for someone outside the Citadel to wear the royal crest. However, the ultimate decision whether or not to form a partnership is, of course, up to the two of you.”

This is where Noctis could protest. All he’d have to say is that he doesn’t like Prompto and won’t collar him, and there will be nothing Ignis can do. But Noctis stays quiet. Prompto seems to pick up on that cue and follows suit. 

With a sigh, Ignis spells out for them, “The arrangement is a relatively simple one. I’m sure you’re both fully aware of what it entails, but just to be sure, I’ll outline for you what will happen should you accept. Prompto, we are simply asking you to wear Noctis’ collar. It will be a temporary one, of course, one you are free to remove at your own discretion. Because it will bear the royal crest, we ask that if you wish to end this arrangement, you not simply dispose of it by normal means, but have it delivered back to the Citadel. We will collect it back either way at the end of the semester. You can go as much of that time without wearing it as you like, but the intended idea is that you wear it while on campus as much as possible. This, combined with Noctis scenting you—” Ignis doesn’t miss the way Prompto’s cheeks heat at that, and Noctis shifts uncomfortably, “Will signal to other alpha students that you aren’t available, and they’ll be far less likely to bother you. This is a huge asset given the stress and thus instability of young alphas taking difficult courses. _Your_ alpha, however, will have an easier time of things if he can sense an omega associated with him nearby. In return, Noct, you should scent Prompto frequently and whenever he asks. I say specifically scent, because I don’t think I need to remind either of you that this _isn’t_ a permanent bond, and there should be _no_ physical marking.” He directs that comment at Noctis, who wrinkles his nose. He does trust that Noctis wouldn’t be so crude as to bite into an omega not technically _his_ , but Ignis prefers to say it anyway. He operates his life under the ‘better safe than sorry’ policy, especially when it comes to Noctis.

He waits for the two of them to jump in. Noctis looks like he wants to say something, he just doesn’t know what. Prompto looks eager to agree but unsure if he should before Noctis. 

Ignis prompts, “Noct?”

Noctis opens his mouth, closes it, and manages. “Okay. I, uh... accept.”

“Me too,” Prompto quickly adds.

Ignis hadn’t expected any less. He pops open the case and hands them both a fair bit of paperwork, mostly instructional guidelines and one contract. He puts that on top for Prompto and urges, “Please read it before you sign.” There’s a pen in the case too, but Ignis doesn’t offer it until Prompto lowers the paper and nods. He signs in a frantic, messy scrawl, then tentatively passes the paper to Noctis, who signs immediately.

The last thing in the case is the collar—a thick black strip with gold embroidery and a silver pendant. Prompto looks awestruck as Ignis withdraws it. The collar that Ignis wears is equally as exquisite, just far subtler—it hides under the high collar of his button-up shirt, thin enough not to make a dent. But Ignis doesn’t need to make a point of showing it. Everyone in the Citadel already knows he’s Noctis’. He’s glad that Prompto looks eager for the gaudier one. 

The collar goes to Noctis, who sucks in a breath before looking up at Prompto. He asks, “So you’re, uh... cool with wearing this...?”

Prompto splutters, “Cool? Are you kidding? I’m stoked!” Then his cheeks go from pink to red, and he hastily corrects, “I mean, uh... I’m flattered, Your Majesty.”

“Highness,” Ignis corrects.

“Noct,” Noctis corrects. “If you’re going to be mine, we should at least be on a first name basis.”

Prompto’s smile could melt through a glacier. He nods happily. “Okay... Noct.”

Noctis’ smile is equally enchanting, but that could just be because Ignis is already smitten with him. “Sounds good, Prompto.”

A pleasant, easy atmosphere settles as Noctis presses the collar against Prompto’s throat. Prompto sucks in a breath and leans forward to take it, one finger tugging down the neckline of his shirt to expose himself properly. Noctis tenderly warps it around his neck and slowly fastens the clasp, giving it a little tug afterwards to test it. Instead of withdrawing then, he draws his fingers around its entire length, grazing all the way from back to front, landing on Prompto’s adam’s apple. Two fingers tuck under the band, and Noctis asks, a smidgen breathless, “Too tight?”

Prompto’s eyes are dilating. “It’s perfect, Your—Noct. Thank you.”

Noctis finally withdraws, but the contact’s clearly affected both of them. Even Ignis feels a little flustered. Seeing another omega wear his alpha’s collar has his pack instincts flaring. He tries to squash them down. It’s only temporary. Prompto licks his lips and leans aside, rolling his shoulder down and tugging his shirt lower. It takes even Ignis by surprise—he hadn’t expected Prompto, who seemed so spirited, to be quite _so_ compliant so fast. But the air of submission wafts off of him, and Ignis can sense Noctis practically salivating to take what’s on offer. 

Before their initial meeting can spiral out of control, Ignis reins himself back and points out, “There’s no need for scenting yet—classes don’t begin until Monday, and whatever you do now will likely wear off over the weekend. I suggest we reconvene on Monday morning to begin scenting then.”

“Or we could do it now,” Noctis suggests, far bolder than the noncommittal way in which they first began this process. “Just so Prompto can get used to what it’s like, wearing my scent.”

It’s a fair point. And more importantly, Ignis doesn’t have the heart to deny Prompto that. While he’s never admitted it aloud outside of heat-induced ramblings, he _loves_ when Noctis has claimed him so thoroughly that everyone can tell exactly who he belongs to. Noctis’ is a glorious aroma that every good omega should have the chance to enjoy, though Ignis wouldn’t actually share it with just anyone. For Prompto, he agrees, “Very well.”

Smirking in victory, Noctis drags his chair that much closer. He asks Prompto with all the sexual energy of a hungry alpha on the prowl, “Can I mark you, Prompto? No teeth, I promise.”

Prompto makes the sort of whining sound that Ignis would never dare breathe in public. Noctis is the only one who’s ever made him that desperate. Prompto obviously doesn’t have the control Ignis does, but he also doesn’t seem to have the same shame. He scoots closer too and bears his neck again. 

Ignis watches his alpha nuzzle into Prompto’s throat, breathe in deeply, and start to rub against him. The pheromones bubble up, spreading across Prompto’s skin like large, bold letters in the shape of Noctis’ name. Noctis goes full force right away, even growling low as he blankets Prompto in his scent. By the time that Noctis pulls away, Prompto’s shaking. 

He eyes are hazy and far away. His thighs are clamped tightly together. Ignis thinks he can even smell a hint of slick under the waves of _alpha_.

Ignis reaches out to place a steadying hand on Prompto’s shoulder, hoping to calm him down. Noctis sees that and lifts his hand to Prompto’s cheek, lightly petting him. A few soothing noises and touches from Noctis, and Prompto’s settling down. He stops shaking. He stills looks wrecked. He reeks of Noctis. Ignis wants to wrap him up, bring him home, and feed him pastries. 

Ignis conspicuously coughs, pulling himself out of it and even standing up. They’ve done everything they came to do. Noctis looks at him, frowns, and begrudgingly stands up too. Ignis starts, “Well, it was good to meet you, Prompto. I sincerely hope this works out well for both of you.”

“Nice to meet you too,” Prompto mumbles, blushing at both of them. Noctis looks like he wants to stay and finish what he started, but he admirably resists. 

“I’ll see you on Monday, Prom.”

“Right...”

“Oh, but—” Noctis looks at Ignis, then continues anyway, “I should get your number. In case, uh... you need me to scent you again...”

“Right! Uh... here...” 

Prompto fishes his phone out of his pocket. He unlocks the screen, then nearly drops it in his fumbling efforts to give it to Noctis. As Noctis adds his own contact information, Ignis suggests, “You may want to exchange King’s Knight friends codes, as well.”

They both look surprised, then delighted. When Noctis finishes, Ignis adds his too, sealing their fate completely.


	3. Begin

Every one of Noctis’ classes is exactly as bad he thought they’d be. There’s simply no way to make political studies _fun_ , at least not to him. He wouldn’t sit through a single word of it if he was just a _normal_ person: someone who could choose their own path. But he can’t. He doesn’t have the choice to take up some dead-end job in a comic store and spend the rest of his time gaming and sleeping. Someday, he’ll have to run the whole country, and deep down, he does _want_ to be prepared for that. If he _has_ to be a king, he might as well be a good one. 

Every so often, he entertains the daydream of marrying Ignis and abdicating the throne to him. Unfortunately, that has to stay in the realm of dreams, and not simply because Noctis is the one with the power to control the crystal—Ignis would kill him. 

Even with that goal in mind, classes suck. They put him to sleep. The only way he manages to get through it is by closing his eyes and remembering Monday morning, where he pulled Prompto into the backseat of Ignis’ car and rubbed all over him. A simple lick or nuzzle would probably have sufficed, given that Noctis’ scent hadn’t seemed to dissipate much over the weekend, but despite all Noctis’ earlier protests, he just couldn’t resist. Prompto’s so _hot_. And he’d looked crazy cute sprawled out across the plush black seats, practically melting every time Noctis touched him. Noctis had no idea an omega could be so... _open_.

Not that Ignis is closed. Noctis loves his bonded omega with every fibre of his being, and he knows every piece of Ignis as intimately as he knows himself. But that took years to establish, and Ignis is as sturdy as an alpha—he doesn’t crumble so completely for anything less than heat. 

Prompto’s putty in Noctis’ hands, but not in the bland, soulless way he’d feared—there’s still a swell of personality there. Prompto has his own spunky smell. He laughs so freely and jokes just as easily, and he talks like Noctis is just any old person instead of a prince that needs groveling.

Actually, thinking of Prompto isn’t the best. It makes his mind spiral off into other places it shouldn’t go while he’s in public, which feels like both a betrayal to Ignis and a waste of his tuition. He tries to focus. Then he thinks of Prompto showing up to school in _his_ collar, and he fails spectacularly. 

He somehow makes it to the middle of the week with a vague idea of what’s going on in most of his lessons. Ignis will fill in whatever he missed. He’s bad again and thinks of texting Prompto on the way out of the library after a long stretch of studies, wondering if it’d be okay to ask for a game of King’s Knight. Prompto _did_ have the app on his phone. But Noctis shouldn’t presume they’re close enough to do that. It’s not like Prompto is _really_ his, and the last thing Noctis wants to do is make anyone, especially someone already wearing his collar, think they _have_ to serve him.

He gets his phone out anyway, but intends to call Ignis for his ride home. Then he passes one of the small gardens occupied by a mid-height, nonsensical brass sculptural installed by the art department. A familiar blond student is hovering around it, carefully framing a picture. 

The flash goes off. Noctis takes a second look at the camera—it’s fairly small and generic looking. He doesn’t know much about photography, but he can guess Prompto doesn’t have the best equipment. Still, it must at least be digital, because Prompto looks down at it and starts pressing buttons. 

Noctis knows he should keep walking. There’s no real reason to stop. Prompto looks perfectly fine, walking around as confidently as any omega safely marked. That thought brings Noctis’ eyes to the black collar fixed securely around Prompto’s throat. Their uniforms are designed to leave room for that, but several of the top buttons on Prompto’s white shirt are undone, pulled apart to show off more of his collarbone and the collar in its entirety. He’s got his jacket off and tied around his waist by the sleeves, his striped tie pulled loose. A green wristband completes the look. In general, his clothes are just as wrinkled as Noctis’. Ignis irons his uniform often, but Noctis, despite not really _doing_ anything, somehow always manages to rumple it up again. 

All of it looks delectable on Prompto, but the collar is what really does Noctis in. Seeing such a handsome young man wearing _his_ mark is a huge turn. He suddenly thinks he should leave as soon as possible, because he might not be able to trust himself around such temptation. He wants to throw Prompto down onto the flowerbeds and—

He doesn’t get the chance to flee. Prompto’s nose twitches, and he lifts his head, glancing around until he spots Noctis past the sculpture. His face flickers from surprised to pleased to embarrassed. Biting his bottom lip, he finally lifts his hand. 

Noctis returns the wave, then breaks and moves close enough to greet, “Hey.”

“Hey,” Prompto echoes. 

For lack of anything smoother, Noctis asks, “How’re you doin’?”

“Great. Uh... you?”

Bored but horny. “Great.”

Prompto smiles goofily. He lowers his camera. Noctis thinks of backing off and letting Prompto continue his shoot. 

Instead, Noctis blurts, “You hungry?”

Prompto blinks. “Huh?”

“I’m going to the cafeteria...”

“Oh, uh, sure?”

“I mean, you don’t have to.”

“No, no! I want—uh...”

Prompto fidgets, then tucks his camera into the bag at his hip and beelines out of the mini-garden. He comes right up close to Noctis, like he’s going to pat Noctis’ shoulder or something, but unfortunately, there’s no contact. Noctis leads the way. 

He isn’t actually hungry. By the time he gets home, Ignis will probably have a much better meal waiting for him than the cafeteria could ever manage. But it was the only thing he could think of saying to extend their conversation, so he rolls with it. 

He scrabbles for more things while they walk. “So... how’re your classes?”

“Fun,” Prompto answers, which fills Noctis with jealousy. “I mean, it’s harder than I’d expected actually, but I want to learn, so... uh, how ‘bout yours?”

To most people, he’d just say ‘fine’ to get them off his back. To Prompto, he admits, “Awful.”

Prompto wilts. “Aw, man, that sucks... sorry to hear it.”

Noctis shrugs. They reach the back of the main building, and he stops to open the door for Prompto, who shuffles in. “S’okay. I always get the worst stuff. Y’know. Politics ‘n shit.”

“Boo.”

“Yeah... what’re you taking?”

“Photography.”

“Oh, right.” He probably could’ve guessed that. It suits Prompto—he seems like a creative person. He’ll probably be absolutely no use at all in running the country. Which is perfect. 

Not that Noctis will have Prompto around by then. They pass a tall alpha on the stairwell who glances at Prompto for half a second. The alpha spots the collar and keeps walking, but Noctis feels a twinge in his gut anyway. It’s a weirdly familiar feeling—he used to get like that when other people looked at Ignis too long. Ignis is, after all, as one or two gross alphas at the Citadel have told Noctis, a ‘perfect specimen.’

Now that Noctis has seen how deadly Ignis is with a knife and how inherently loyal he is to Noctis, the jealousy’s dissipated. Ignis can and will defend himself. Sometimes Noctis still gets possessive. But that’s different. Ignis is _his._

Prompto isn’t. But Prompto obediently follows him across the polished floor of the cafeteria anyway. 

There are several stalls lining the large hall, some brand-name outlets and other faculty-owned pit stops. Noctis has a definite preference for the mass-produced food that Ignis would never let him have, but he politely checks, “What do you want?”

“What?” Prompto turns a wide-eyed look to him, then seems to catch on and breathes out again. “Oh, food, right! Uh... I dunno, what do you want?”

“I asked you first?”

Prompto snorts, grinning, then starts rooting around in his bag. He pulls out a Justice Monsters wallet that makes Noctis’ heart skip a beat. After fishing through coins, Prompto decides, “Whatever I can get for under five. I still need change for the bus.”

Noctis isn’t sure if he’s ever actually weighed the price of food into his eating decisions. He says, “My treat.”

“What? No, that’s okay!”

“No, it’s fine.”

“But—”

“Prom,” Noctis cuts in, employing the nickname he’s already settled on. “I’m paying.”

Despite a growing blush, Prompto looks unsure. But he nods his acceptance. In a way, Noctis is glad he protested—it shows he’s not _completely_ compliant to everything an alpha says. After a few indecisive looks around the place, Prompto settles on, “The salad bar?”

It’s Ignis all over again. Noctis has made a horrible mistake. He can’t handle _two_ healthy people. He stares at Prompto for a few conspicuous seconds, trying to decide if Prompto’s cute enough to justify the horror of lettuce. 

Prompto puts the Justice Monsters wallet away. It draws Noctis’ eyes to his bag. There’s a tiny ceramic paopu fruit from the Kingdom Hearts series attached to one of the zippers. Noctis can’t believe he didn’t notice that before. He can’t believe he doesn’t have one of those himself. Prompto’s such a nerd. 

That decides it, and Noctis lies through his teeth, “Sounds good.”

With a wide grin, Prompto leads the way. Noctis follows him into a line at a small salad bar. There are half a dozen girls in front of them that take forever deciding and aren’t exactly subtle with their comments about the prince behind them. Noctis pretends not to hear any of it, and Prompto, albeit with a much bigger blush, does too. A few of the girls smile at Noctis when they leave, but he doesn’t pay them any mind. He definitely doesn’t need a _third_ person wearing his collar, and none of them have nerd swag on their bags. 

Once they’ve moved up in line, Noctis tosses a bit of iceberg lettuce into one of the recyclable containers and starts drowning it in croutons and dressing. Prompto puts together a disgustingly healthy-looking assembly of all the vegetables on offer. Noctis pays for both, which has Prompto telling him, “Thank you,” about five times on the way to one of the white tables in the corner. It’s gotten late enough that most of the tables are empty, though a few people do shift closer when they see Noctis. Like usual, he ignores them. 

They pull out their plastic forks, and Noctis starts picking around his lettuce. Hopefully, Prompto won’t judge him the way Ignis does whenever he eats ‘crouton salad.’ Prompto does look at his selection but doesn’t say anything. 

Prompto asks, “So, uh... do you play King’s Knight a lot?”

“Every chance I get,” Noctis answers, pleased that Prompto’s getting comfortable enough to start conversations. “’Finished the story mode though, so I just do the competitive missions when I’m out.”

“Me too, except I suck at it. I’m trying not to sink money into it, but it gets really pay-to-play at points... uh, not that I’m—it’s fine though, if I just go slow there’s always log-in bonuses.”

Noctis will have to take his word for it. Ignis takes care of Noctis’ phone bill, like he takes care of everything. “That’s a bummer.”

“Yeah. I should just get on a good team, I guess. That’d help.”

“Definitely.” Noctis needs a third member in his. Especially an active one. Gladiolus and Ignis are great, but they both have busy schedules. Noctis is about to make that offer, but then Prompto’s switching topics. 

“Did you try the console spin-off?”

Noctis groans. “Ugh, no, stop. We don’t speak of that atrocity.”

Prompto laughs, which lights up his whole face. “Sorry! I heard it was really hard anyway.”

“Pfft. It was worse than the sewer levels in Justice Monster X.”

It’s Prompto’s turn to let out a withered dying groan. “Man, those tracks will be the death of me...!”

The mention of game difficulty reminds him, “Did you get the latest critical mode patch for Kingdom Hearts, by the way?”

“Dude! That’s like, my favourite series _ever_!”

Prompto’s smile is infectious. Returning it actually hurts Noctis’ face. “I figured, I saw your paopu charm.”

“Oh, yeah! My dad brought me that last year. Funny thing is, he just thought it looked neat; had no idea it was from my favourite game.”

For a brief moment, Noctis pictures his father going into a nerd shop and trying to buy gifts for him. It’d be hilarious. But also would sadly never happen. Not that he needs it. Ignis will get him whatever he wants. 

He probably won’t get one now, just because the adorable golden charm suits Prompto more, and he’d be happy to just see that whenever he sees Prompto himself. 

Prompto pauses to swallow down some shredded beets, then goes on, “Anyway, yeah, I just started my critical playthrough. It’s pretty tough, but also feels weirdly balanced, because the main game was so easy, y’know? I mean, I even beat the optional bosses in one go on proud mode... usually those things make me tear my hair out!”

“I died like three times just in the tutorial on critical,” Noctis admits, which he only ever would to someone he trusted, because if that made it into the papers, he’d die. 

But Prompto just laughs. “Only three? Dude, I had to restart _fourteen times_! It was so sad that I actually started counting!”

“Yeah, at first I was like, ‘oh, it’ll be easy; I’ll just actually use the cooking system,’ but you’re screwed in the level before they introduce that.”

“Maaan, I had so much food by the end of my first run. I kept thinking I’d save it all for a hard boss, but that never happened, so...”

Noctis sighs wistfully. “All that digital food, going to waste... mine too, though. I wasn’t saving it—I just forgot it was even there.”

Prompto laughs raucously. While he’s doing that, Noctis picks out the rest of his croutons and shuts the container, trapping the lettuce inside. More food waste. Hopefully Ignis will never find out about it. 

He still waits and chats while Prompto finishes his heartier meal. The time flies by.

When his phone rings the first time, he straight up ignores it, but on the second go, Prompto pauses his lengthy theory on Corey and Tommy’s involvement in the darkness plotline to check, “Uh... should you get that?”

Noctis turns towards the window and examines the evening sky. “Nope, doesn’t look like the country’s on fire.”

Prompto snorts. “Dude, c’mon! It could be important!”

More likely, it’s his other omega. Who he absolutely shouldn’t ignore for some cute new thing. He just doesn’t want things to end, because it seems like they’re really getting settled in with one another. No one’s ever called Noctis _dude_ before.

Prompto starts packing up the remnants of his food on the third ring, so Noctis does answer, immediately starting with, “Sorry.”

 _“It’s gotten quite late,”_ Ignis’ smooth voice notes. _“I don’t imagine you’ve been studying this whole time.”_

“No, uh... listen. Could we give Prompto a lift home?”

Prompto startles, but Ignis answers, _“Of course. I was just about to ask when I should come by. I’ll be right over.”_

The phone clicks, and Prompto splutters, “No, that’s okay! I can catch the bus!”

“It’s fine. He’s coming to pick me up anyway.”

Prompto struggles for a few seconds before squeaking, “Thanks.”

“No prob.”

In a way, it helps him as much as Prompto. He wants to get Prompto in his car again. He wants to take Prompto home with him. He probably could. He thinks at this point, Prompto would say yes to anything he asked. 

But it wouldn’t be fair. He doesn’t want to act like he already owns Prompto just because Prompto’s wearing his collar. That doesn’t mean anything. It’s just a temporary sponsorship one, not like Ignis’ more personal, handcrafted one that Noctis described to the jeweler himself. 

Still. It’s _something._ Noctis’ family crest sits against Prompto’s skin like a beacon of warm, inviting light. It’s only been a week, and Noctis has only seen Prompto around campus a few times, but every time, he’s had the collar on. As far as Noctis knows, he never takes it off. Maybe he goes home, strips out of his uniform, and looks in the mirror wearing nothing but the mark of Noctis’ ownership. Maybe then he touches it while he touches himself, still enveloped in Noctis’ feral scent. 

Noctis jerks himself out of that line of thought. The citadel isn’t all that far, so Noctis knows Ignis won’t be long. He gets up first, and Prompto follows—they dump their containers in the recycling and slowly meander towards the parking lot. The conversation starts up again, but slower—out in the chilly air, it’s easier to remember how late it is and that they need to go their separate ways. Prompto puts his jacket back on, which slightly obscures the view of the collar. The tip of it still stands out against his pale skin. Noctis tries not to stare at it too much. 

When Ignis arrives, Noctis gets into the back with Prompto. Ignis politely greets them both, seemingly unperturbed by Noctis bringing along another omega. He asks for Prompto’s address, and Noctis falls quiet as the two of them work out directions. 

A little later, Ignis is pulling up to the curb outside of Prompto’s apartment building. Noctis makes a mental note of what it looks like and kind of wishes Prompto would invite him—and Ignis—in. 

But that’s ridiculous. They’ve both got studying to do. Or studying and pictures or whatever it is photography students do. _Noctis_ has studying to suffer through. At least he’ll have one omega to help him through it, but one to cuddle on the side wouldn’t hurt. 

Before he opens the door, Prompto throws out a soft, “Thanks, Ignis.”

Ignis answers, “Any time.”

To Noctis, Prompto hesitates, then manages, “Bye, Noct.”

“Bye.”

A thin smile, and Prompto’s gone. Noctis gets out and joins Ignis in the front seat.

As they drive off, Noctis begrudgingly mutters, “You did good, Specs.”

Ignis coolly replies, “I know.”


	4. Progress

He still can’t believe he’s wearing Prince Noctis’ collar.

It has nothing to do with the fact that it’s _the prince_ , and everything to do with _Noctis_ himself—he’s strong, handsome, fun, nerdy: all the things Prompto would want if he were to employ a mad scientist with the goal of constructing his perfect alpha. He probably wouldn’t have given that creation an existing omega, but that’s okay—Ignis is hot too, and something about him just puts Prompto at ease. He’s never had another omega friend before, but it seems like all the rumours are true about how two omegas can make each other feel, at least, when they’re a good fit. He doesn’t know Ignis that well yet, but Prompto still wants to cuddle up with him at any opportunity.

He wants to do a lot more than just cuddle with Noctis, and he spends one too many nights moaning his temporary alpha’s name. He touches the collar whenever he can. He loves catching glimpses of it in the mirror. He loves how his apartment starts to smell of Noctis—every time he gets scented, he leaves the university as fast as he can to spread the pheromones all over his apartment. His pillow reeks of Noctis. It’s been a few weeks, and he should probably wash it, but he kind of doesn’t want to. Ever. 

When his parents call to check in and ask how it’s going with his sponsor, he says things are good. But they’re better than that. He’s gotten past his shock at being chosen and is now just shocked at how amazing the alpha he got is. 

On days when he doesn’t need to hurriedly rub the fresh scent all over all the fabric in his home, he lingers at the university more than he needs to, just in case he gets lucky. One evening, he hovers outside the library, knocking out pictures of its interesting architecture. His omega senses prickle at an alpha behind him, and he turns to find Noctis staring at him. 

He chirps, “Hey,” on sheer instinct, because their conversations have become so casual and frequent, albeit not frequent enough. 

Noctis mutters, “Hi,” back, then gestures vaguely at the camera in Prompto’s hands. “Okay, so... I admit I don’t know shit about cameras. But I saw Gl—my personal trainer with one that looked just like that the other day, and there’s no way he forked out for a professional one. Is that model... uh... _good_?”

It’s not, and Prompto’s heart sinks just knowing that Noctis noticed. It’s not exactly a _cheap_ camera—he spent as much as he could. He just couldn’t spend as much as he wanted. He probably should’ve spent a few more years working and saving up before attending one of the most prestigious universities in Insomnia, but then he wouldn’t have met Noctis. 

He admits, “It’s, uh... okay.”

“Just okay?”

“I mean... it’s not _bad_... but, y’know... after books and tuition...” He just sort of trails off. He hates bringing up money around Noctis. The last thing he wants is to make Noctis feel awkward for having infinitely more.

Noctis just looks confused. “But I’m sponsoring you.”

“Yeah...?”

“So... didn’t Ignis take care of all that?”

Prompto tilts his head. “What?”

“I mean, not Ignis personally, but he handles all my financial stuff... I don’t know, I just thought... if I’m sponsoring you, shouldn’t I be paying for all that?”

Prompto can feel his cheeks heating. He obviously researched the program more thoroughly than Noctis did. But he doesn’t want to correct Noctis, so he tries not to sound too definitive. “That’s, uh... I don’t think that’s how it works...”

Noctis just sort of stares at him for a minute, then announces, “You’re representing the crown. You should have nice stuff.”

Prompto can feel his blush reaching his ears. He never meant to sucker Noctis into giving him money. While Prompto flounders in nerves and gratitude, Noctis pulls out his phone and starts typing. 

“We can probably just walk to the mall from here—save Ignis the trip. They’ve got a few electronic stores, right? I’ll let him know we’ll be late.”

 _We_. Prompto soaks that in and still splutters, “N-no, that’s okay, you don’t have to—!”

“I want to.”

“But... but that’ll be crazy expensive, and—”

“And you’re my omega right now,” Noctis interjects, looking up to fix him in place with a firm stare. “Let me do this for you.”

Giddiness takes over, and Prompto stops protesting. He nods weakly and resists the urge to nuzzle into Noctis’ chest. 

They head off together, meandering through the different buildings and off campus entirely. They’ve past the parking lot when Noctis’ phone buses, presumably with Ignis texting back. Noctis types something else out to him, while Prompto follows and remembers the tall, handsome man that approached him at orientation. His heart had nearly stopped when he’d realized who was talking to him—someone like Ignis, royal or no, would normally be way out of his league. But right in Noctis’. Ignis is lucky to have Noctis, but Noctis is probably lucky to have Ignis too. And Prompto’s happy for them: they both deserve a good relationship.

They _are_ in a relationship. They’re bonded, and Prompto would know that even if he hadn’t caught the occasional glimpse at Ignis’ thin collar. Their connection’s obvious. Prompto is glad of that, glad for them, but he still can’t help the sorrow that seeps into him over it—over Noctis being taken. Jealousy’s an ugly emotion that Prompto doesn’t often experience, but it’s clawing at him now. 

As Noctis finishes up and stuffs his phone away, Prompto hollowly asks, “Is Ignis working today?”

“Yeah. Honestly, he spends more time at the Citadel than I do. Don’t know what I’d do without him.”

They make their way down the winding sidewalk, a steady stream of cars passing by them. When they reach the intersection at the bottom, Noctis hits the button for the crosswalk, and Prompto mulls that over. “He works at the Citadel? ...Alone...?”

Noctis shrugs like it’s normal. Maybe it is. Prompto’s never been there, but he just thought it would be a sea of alphas. “Everyone knows Ignis is mine, and even if someone did hassle him, he’s well trained.”

“Trained?” Prompto asks, wondering what sort of training one has to go through to serve the prince, and then if he could do it.

But Noctis answers, “Yeah. He mostly uses daggers, but he’s deadly with a lance too. At first I was kind of worried when I found out he was practicing with my shield, since Gladio’s a tank and Ignis is a twig, but now I know Ignis can handle himself against the best of ‘em.” The light scrolls to red, and the walk signal comes on. As they cross, Noctis flashes him a grin. “It’s pretty cool, actually, seeing him when he’s like that—being such a badass. It ruins his hair, too. I mean, I dig the thing he does with his bangs now, but it’s pretty hot when he comes home all sweaty and his hair’s all messy.”

It’s too much information. Prompto takes a minute to process it all. ‘Gladio’ must be Noctis’ shield. And he trains Noctis _and_ Noctis’ omegas? And Ignis is a badass.

On the next block, Noctis mutters, “On the other hand, maybe Gladio would get off my back if my own omega wasn’t showing me up.”

For lack of anything better to say, Prompto mumbles, “Sorry.”

Noctis shrugs. “Do you do any training?”

Prompto’s steps falter, but he quickly moves past it. He’s never had professional training, certainly not like Ignis apparently has, but a few years ago he took his health into his own hands. Noctis doesn’t need to know about his weight and self esteem issues, so he simplifies it to, “I go for runs.”

“Cool. If you ever want weapon training, let me know. Gladio could probably squeeze you in. Or, actually... that might be a little much; he’s all testosterone and hyper-alphaness. Maybe Ignis?”

For some reason, that sounds _awesome_ to Prompto. It probably shouldn’t, since Ignis is apparently ‘deadly,’ and he’s also, technically, Prompto’s competition.

Not that Prompto has a shot anyway. He shakily replies, “That’d be cool, but... isn’t he really busy?”

“Oh, yeah.” Noctis’ shoulders slump. He’s got his hands stuffed in his pockets. In some moments, he looks like any other college kid, just shambling along into the shopping district. But then the evening light will hit him at just the right angle, wash his handsome frame in a warm sepia tone, and he’ll look very much the future of their world. 

A gaggle of girls over by a dollar store spot him; Prompto can tell they recognize him from the way they point and whisper. Noctis takes a detour down an alley and continues, “You know... that’s why he put me in this program in the first place. So I could have someone else to focus my instincts on and... not bother him as much, I guess.” 

That’s an interesting tidbit—that it was Ignis’ idea. Prompto hopes Noctis isn’t against the arrangement. He points out, “I’m sure you’re not a bother to him.”

“Yeah. But... you know what I mean.”

Prompto doesn’t, but he pretends to and offers a friendly smile. Noctis grins back. They emerge from the alley and approach the towering mini-mall that thrives on after-school business. The second they’re through the doors, the smell of caffeine hits them. There’s a coffee shop on one side of the well-lit hall and an alpha outlet on the other. A wide variety of heavy-duty human collars are on display in the windows, and Prompto can’t help eyeing them as he passes. They’ve never held much appeal to him before, but now he yearns for a permanent one, maybe even one with a lock and key. His steps slow, but Noctis doesn’t notice and keeps on going. 

Prompto hurries to catch up, then reaches up to touch the collar already wrapped around his throat. He reminds himself he’s lucky and that he’s gotten more than he deserves. When Noctis looks back at him, he quickly drops his hand away. 

There are three electronic stores in the mall, only two of which sell cameras, and one of which doesn’t have many in stock but does have a hefty catalogue of items that can be ordered in. At the poor selection, Noctis suggests they call Ignis after all and drive around to a few more places, but Prompto finds a professional-grade camera in the last store that practically has him salivating. He tries not to look as interested as he is, because it’s obscenely expensive, but Noctis _insists._

Noctis buys it for him, then adds an array of extra accessories and equipment. Prompto becomes a bubbling mess that can’t contain his gratitude. The shopkeeper makes a joke about Noctis spoiling his omega, which has Prompto blushes up a storm, but Noctis just nods. Prompto can’t say thank you enough. 

Noctis finally tells him to _stop_ saying it, in that commanding alpha voice that instantly has Prompto shutting up. He hugs Noctis instead, and he’s still hanging onto Noctis’ arm when Ignis comes to pick them up.

Ignis drives them home, and next week, he drives them to Kenny Crows for a Justice Monsters match on the arcade machines. 

The week after that, they go to a full-on arcade. Restaurants come next—just casual ones, places where they can slump down after a long day and complain about their classes. Ignis starts joining them when he can, which doesn’t cramp their style at all—Prompto knows that if he’s going to get Noctis, he needs Ignis’ approval. 

And he likes Ignis. He likes the cheesy puns Ignis makes and the adorable way he babies his alpha. Ignis shows genuine interest in his photography, and a few times Prompto thinks of asking Ignis to model for him—Ignis _looks_ like a model, and he’s less conspicuous that Noctis. Over time, Prompto winds up with plenty of pictures of both of them. 

One day they’re in a pizzeria on a Friday night, and Noctis excuses himself to the washroom while Ignis handles the bill, presumably with Noctis’ money. Prompto follows him to the register and wonders if it would be okay to ask Noctis to scent him again in front of Ignis. He wants to smell like Noctis over the weekend, but he doesn’t want to step on Ignis’ toes. 

Ignis pays, then draws Prompto over to the door. He lays a hand on Prompto’s shoulder, squeezes lightly, and says, “You’re doing well keeping Noctis happy. Thank you.”

Prompto _glows_.

Then Noctis comes out to join them, and they have to part again.


	5. Talk

“Do you think I need some new hoodies?”

Ignis glances up from the neatly printed shopping list in his left hand. Gladiolus has stopped walking in favour of eyeing up a small men’s clothing boutique that has both suits and t-shirts in the window. Gladiolus is currently wearing a hoodie, worn jeans, and backwards baseball cap that makes it look like he’s trying to present younger than he is. As someone thoroughly familiar with Gladiolus’ wardrobe, Ignis concludes, “You have enough.”

“Yeah, but Iris keeps whining that mine are starting to smell. She’s been trying to drag me out shopping. ‘Figure I’d rather do it with you.”

“Flattered,” Ignis dryly mutters. “But I don’t think your clothes are the problem.”

Gladiolus scoffs and playfully punches his shoulder. If any other alpha did that, Ignis would recoil. Gladiolus is a close enough friend that he just absorbs the hit. He’s also close enough for Ignis to begrudgingly agree, “If you want to go clothes shopping, we can.”

Gladiolus looks back at him and the list he’s pocketing. “Do we have time?”

“I wasn’t going to be able to get all this anyway. I’ll settle for the groceries and that game Noctis wants.”

“Tch. He can’t even be bothered to buy his own groceries now?”

“He’s busy studying.”

“You sure about that?”

“Yes. I unplugged the television. The cables are in the trunk of my car.”

Gladiolus laughs, and it makes Ignis wish he really _had_ done that. Instead, he’s trusting Noctis. Despite the constant stream of complaints, Noctis _does_ seem to be taking his studies seriously. A part of Ignis suspects that it’s only so he doesn’t get expelled next semester and have to give up seeing Prompto, but Ignis prefers to think his alpha is simply maturing. 

Gladiolus is still laughing as he shakes his head and starts walking again. “Forget it; I got shit to do today too. Helping Cor with some of the new recruits. But I’ll come with you to get the game; gotta know what princess is playing so I can play it first and get better than him.”

Ignis lets out an exaggerated sigh but doesn’t protest. He’ll probably play a few rounds with Gladiolus too—the game’s supposed to be better multiplayer, and he prefers to stay above Noctis’ skill level: that way, he can be there to bail his alpha out whenever needed. 

The posters plastered all over the store windows are all for games they’ve already played, but Gladiolus slows his pace anyway to eye the underdressed heroine. He doesn’t have the same complaints Ignis does about ridiculous female armour. Ignis enters without him and heads for the new release section. 

He winds up stopping next to the used bin instead, because Prompto’s there, flipping through Imperial RPG titles. 

Ignis broaches, “Enjoying your weekend?”

Prompto practically jumps, head shooting up and eyes going wide. When he sees Ignis, he melts back into the relaxed young man he should be. Out of uniform, he’s wearing dark skinny-jeans and a black tank top with a studded vest: something with far more personality than his school clothes. Ignis notes that he’s also wearing Noctis’ collar despite not being at the university. 

It looks good on him. It _suits_ him, although Ignis might suggest a few minor tweaks if he’s ever given a permanent one. While Ignis’ collar is partially obscured by his shirt, Prompto’s is fully and proudly on display. 

He smiles warmly at Ignis and chirps, “Yup. I just finished a huge project due next week, so I actually feel like I’m ahead for once.”

“How wonderful,” Ignis muses. “And is this a portfolio? I’d be interested to see it—you still haven’t shown me enough of your work.”

Prompto blushes—an adorable look on him. “Aw, that’s okay; you don’t have to.”

“I’d like to.”

Prompto’s smile looks ready to burst, and then, suddenly, it does.

A familiar presence sidles up beside Ignis, and Gladiolus asks, “Who’s your friend, Iggy?”

It should be obvious, given the royal seal practically branded into Prompto’s chest. Prompto’s hand actually lifts to touch it, the rest of his posture visibly shrinking back, which isn’t at all an unusual reaction for an omega as small as him around an alpha as big as Gladiolus. Gladiolus makes it worse by grinning with all his teeth, even though Prompto’s clearly intimidated. 

Ignis takes a few steps around the used games bin and comes to rest his hand against the small of Prompto’s back. He tries to concentrate his pheromones on comforting Prompto. Prompto lets out a little breath, and his eyes start to dilate, signaling that it’s working. 

Still wrapping Prompto in that safe omega bubble, Ignis answers, “This is the omega I told you about; the one that Noctis is sponsoring at the university. You helped me run his background check.”

“Ahh, so this is the infamous Promdo.” 

Ignis corrects, “Prompto.”

“Right.” Gladiolus lets his eyes sweep down Prompto’s body, then adds, “Not bad.”

Ignis could punch him. He settles for glaring, which has Gladiolus frowning and taking a physical step back. He finally makes an effort to control his alpha scent, reeling it back in. Prompto seems to relax a bit, and Ignis is sure the other omegas in the store appreciate it too, although there is one older woman at the back stealing hungry glances at the beefcake that just walked in. Ignis half wishes Gladiolus would go bother her instead and leave Prompto alone. 

But if Prompto’s going to be in Noctis’ life, which Ignis truly thinks he _should be_ , he’ll have to get used to Gladiolus. So Ignis tries to bridge the gap between them and introduces, “Prompto, this is Gladiolus, Noctis’ shield. He’s also a good friend of mine. We were just shopping for groceries together.” 

“Wish I could stay and eat ‘em after you’ve cooked them up,” Gladiolus chuckles, “But hey, duty calls.” Then he turns his attention back to Prompto and asks, “So if you’re Noctis’ new catch, how come I never see you around the apartment?”

Prompto fidgets. Ignis privately thinks that Noctis hasn’t extended that invitation yet because he’s trying not to get too attached, which obviously isn’t working anyway. Noctis must think, and probably correctly, that if he gets Prompto’s scent lingering around his apartment, he’ll never want to give that up.

Ignis wants Noctis to be happy. And he wants to see what Prompto would look like against the floor-to-ceiling windows of Noctis’ expensive suite. So he offers, “As a matter of fact, are you doing anything tonight, Prompto? I’d love to make you dinner.”

Prompto blinks at him and splutters, “Oh, I don’t want to be a bother!”

“It’s no bother. I’d expected to cook for three anyway, but it seems Gladio has bailed on me. Not that you could possibly eat as much as him.”

“Hey,” Gladiolus laughs. “That’s not fair; I’m twice his size!”

“And you’ll stay that way if you keep eating like a starving behemoth. What do you say, Prompto? Will you let me spirit you away for the evening?”

It probably isn’t fair to ask that while his arm is still around Prompto. It probably isn’t necessary anymore—Prompto’s nerves seemed to have quieted down. He hesitates for a moment, then meekly smiles and says, “If you insist...”

“I do.”

The smile blossoms again, one that almost makes Ignis’ heart constrict. Prompto says so sincerely, “ _Thank you_.”

Ignis nods. But he’s starting to feel a tad flustered, so he withdraws his arm. “Give me a moment; I have to pick something up for Noct, then I still have to buy the groceries.”

“Cool; I can wait.” 

Ignis pats his arm, gives Gladiolus a pointed look to scram, and finds the new release section. Gladiolus obediently trails behind Ignis, but Ignis doesn’t miss the looks he tosses back at Prompto, at least until he notices the woman in the corner unabashedly starting at him. While he leaves to strike up a conversation with her, Ignis finds what he’s looking for and makes the purchase. Prompto shows up behind him in line with two games, and Ignis has to resist the urge to pay for those too. He easily could, and not even with Noctis’ money; he’s always been good with savings, and thus has plenty of his own funds for when the mood does strike. But he knows Noctis has already been shelling out for Prompto here and there, and he’s seen how flustered and guilty it makes Prompto, and there’s no need to put him on the spot again after already offering dinner. Not that Ignis doesn’t want to spoil Prompto. Or rather, he wants their alpha to spoil them both, mostly in affection, but occasionally in gifts. 

He shakes himself out of that daydream when he reaches the front of the line. He finishes, Prompto goes next, and then Gladiolus shows up to buy a pair of branded socks for the older omega, who giggles when he hands them back to her, purring, “Think of me when you wear them.”

Ignis has to resist the urge to roll his eyes. He could easily leave Gladiolus there, but Gladiolus insists on leaving with them, just after getting her number. The three of them take the escalator down and hit the large general store in relative silence, until Gladiolus asks if Ignis has beaten the week’s promotional King’s Knight campaign, and then Prompto is groaning in envy and Gladiolus is boasting of his digital exploits. 

Ignis lets them chatter amongst themselves while he tracks down the items on his list. Gladiolus offers to carry the basket, because according to him, that’s what alphas do, and Ignis lets him because it’s just easier to keep both hands free. By the time they reach the checkout, Gladiolus and Prompto are talking like long-time friends. 

When they reach the car, Gladiolus leaves them, announcing he’ll jog home, which has Prompto spouting more amazement when he finds out how far that is. Ignis finally jokes, “Don’t get any ideas, Gladio. He’s wearing your boss’ collar.” Which has Prompto blushing up a storm and Gladiolus snorting and play-punching him again. 

“As if I’d go for Noct’s leftovers. Didn’t you see that hot chick I picked up like five minutes ago? No collar there.”

“Unfortunately, I think we _all_ saw that.”

“Hey, can’t help it if omegas love me. Present company not excluded.”

“I suggest you start running before I get behind the wheel.”

More laughter, and Gladiolus is turning to go, but not before throwing out, “Nice to meet you, blondie. Be a good omega for his royal highness, okay? His current one’s getting too mouthy.” He even winks. Prompto doesn’t laugh, but he does quirk a guilty grin. Ignis waits until Gladiolus is out of earshot before apologizing for him. 

The easy banter begins again in the car, and they spend the trip to Noctis’ place discussing Ignis’ training routine. Apparently, Prompto thinks Ignis is a ‘badass,’ because that’s what Noctis told him back near the beginning of the semester. It amuses Ignis greatly, and while he assures Prompto that Noctis is exaggerating, he does enjoy the admiration in Prompto’s eyes. He also suggests Prompto ask Gladiolus for training once he’s comfortable enough. Ignis is sure Gladiolus would be happy to do it, and any omega in Noctis’ life should be able to defend both themselves and him. Ignis thinks Prompto would probably enjoy it too.

Perhaps he could even join Noctis’ sessions. Except that once they saw each other panting and sweating, they’d probably never be able to concentrate again. 

Prompto is visibly excited when they reach Noctis’ building, anxious in the elevator, but ecstatic on the top floor. It’s a pheromone roller coaster that Ignis patiently rides out. When he opens the door, Prompto pauses, unable to cross the threshold.

Ignis gently tugs him in by the wrist, then locks the door again. Together they shuffle out of their shoes, and Ignis goes to put the groceries away, gesturing into the living room on the way. “Welcome to Noctis’ apartment. I have my own, but I confess I spend more time here. I’d give you a tour, but I’m sure Noctis can do it himself.”

Noctis, unsurprisingly, is lounging on the couch. But at least the books on the table have been closed, presumably signaling that he’s finished his paper. He stiffens and pulls to attention when Prompto sheepishly rounds the corner. 

It’s probably the first time that Prompto’s seen Noctis so underdressed, stripped down to sweatpants and an oversized shirt that used to be Ignis’. Noctis must realize this, because his cheeks turn nearly as pink as Prompto’s. He still gets off the couch to come greet his new omega. He stops just short of actually embracing Prompto, standing just within reach of him instead. Prompto mumbles, “Um, sorry to crash in—Ignis, uh... invited me for dinner, so...”

“No,” Noctis jumps in, even taking one of Prompto’s hands and squeezing it. “It’s cool. Uh... welcome?”

“Thanks.”

They’re too awkward to stand. Ignis suggests for them, “Why don’t you two study while I make dinner?”

Noctis’ nose wrinkles, and Prompto offers, “Oh, do you want any help cooking? I could—”

“Not, it’s fine. Perhaps a game, then? Noctis, I got that new one for you, but I’m disinclined to hand it over until I’ve seen your completed paper.”

Noctis rolls his eyes and mutters, “Thanks, _dad_.” It’s clearly meant as an insult, but given that Noctis’ father is _the king_ and someone Ignis very much looks up to, it doesn’t sting at all. Ignis simply turns his back on them and begins preparations. 

Noctis and Prompto talk, and when Ignis turns back around to make use of the kitchenette island, he sees they’ve migrated to the couch. They sit conspicuously close to one another, not _quite_ touching, and chat while the screen flicks on. A few minutes of scrolling through Noctis’ digital library, and the familiar keytones of a grueling platformer drift through the apartment. 

Ignis has always had a fondness for video game music, particularly the older, nostalgic kind, but Noctis and Prompto talking and laughing make for better music. It’s a pleasant atmosphere to work in. It also keeps Noctis distracted: he doesn’t once look over to see how many vegetables Ignis is finely dicing into the pasta sauce. Maybe with Prompto over, he won’t pick them out either. 

Only once Ignis is adding spices does he think to call, “Do you have any allergies, Prompto?”

“Nope. Just sewer levels and unfair boss mechanics.” Noctis laughs. Ignis looks over and notices that Noctis has thrown his arm around the back of the couch, effectively around Prompto, just without the physical contact. It’s a shame, really. It’s quite obvious to Ignis that Prompto is madly in love with Noctis, and Noctis doesn’t seem that far behind. He’d half expected them to be making out by now, the game entirely forgotten as they thoroughly sullied the couch. 

He can only hope they’re not holding back for his sake. He certainly wouldn’t mind the show, so long as they didn’t do anything unsanitary directly on the cushions. 

By the time dinner’s ready, Noctis is starting to whine about his stomach, and it’s clear from the background music that they’ve been stuck on the same level for the last ten minutes. Ignis clears off and sets the table while they shut down the electronics and wander over. 

It’s nothing particularly fancy—a simple pasta dish with homemade sauce and plenty of hidden nutrition—but Prompto looks at it like it’s a five-course meal in the Citadel. He eats nearly as much as Noctis does, praising Ignis constantly for it, and every complement goes straight to Ignis’ heart. For once, Noctis complements it too and doesn’t pick out a single carrot.

When dinner’s over, Ignis insists they do it again sometime, except he’ll plan better and make something nicer, including a dessert. Prompto eagerly nods and profusely thanks them both. Ignis offers him a ride home, but he _insists_ on the bus, claiming that he’ll die if they do him even one more favour. Begrudgingly, and after a tooth-rotting hug, Ignis lets him go. 

When the door closes behind him, Ignis and Noctis are left in the entranceway. There’s a moment of silence before they trail back into the apartment. Before Noctis can go back to his screen, Ignis says, “You’re allowed to have him, you know.”

Noctis pauses. He glances back at Ignis, frowning.

“That’s why I chose him for you. He’s _perfect_ for you.”

“It’s temporary,” Noctis grunts. A rising blush betrays him: he clearly wants _more_. “Besides, _he_ didn’t pick me. He just needs a sponsor. We’re... we’re friends.”

With a sigh, Ignis heads back to the kitchenette to start on the dishes. He doesn’t bother to lower his voice when he grumbles, “You can be so thick headed sometimes.”

Footsteps follow him, and then he can feel Noctis’ weight pressing against his back. Noctis’ arms wrap around his middle, the wondrous feeling of _his alpha_ invading him. Ignis falters, then turns around in Noctis’ arms. 

Noctis leans up to give him a chaste kiss. He’s perfectly aware that Noctis is just trying to placate him.

But it works. He can _feel_ his alpha’s love pushing at him, and Noctis looks at him with such tenderness that it’s hard to think of anything else. His instincts flare up. He returns the hug, only tighter. 

Noctis kisses his cheek, withdraws, and goes back to gaming.


	6. Fall

_What’re you doin?_

_Trying to find where we keep the spare light bulbs. You?_

_Nothing. My light bulbs are all working._

_Don’t you have like... a country to run or something?_

_Nah that’s what I have Iggy for._

Prompto sends a laughing emoticon, then: _Sorry I’m not more interesting._

He’s plenty interesting. Noctis has come to love their useless text banter, but of course, it pales in comparison to face-to-face conversation. He broaches the original subject he had in mind: _Wanna come over?_ It’s a Saturday night, and he has time to play. 

It’s not cheating. He knows that. But he still wouldn’t have suggested it if it weren’t for Ignis literally being in the other room: not a single thing will be done behind his back.

Besides, he’ll probably be glad to have another omega around. He’s been touchy all afternoon, and for once, there doesn’t seem to be anything Noctis can do about it. Omegas are supposed to be good at comforting each other—maybe Prompto can de-stress Ignis before joining Noctis in a rousing game of... whatever. 

_Now?_

_No, last week. ‘Course now. :p_

_Lol, sure! I’ll be right there._

Noctis is about to suggest Prompto grab chips and pop on his way over, because that’s the diet Noctis wants but can never get when Ignis is around. Before he can send another message, he hears a large crash in the living room.

Straightening up from his seat against the headboard, Noctis calls, “Ignis?”

There’s no response. But then, he has the door closed. Tossing his phone onto the nightstand, Noctis ventures out into the rest of his apartment. As soon as he’s opened his bedroom door, he’s hit with a cloud of pheromones that instantly explains Ignis’ mood. 

Ignis himself is on the floor next to a tray of toppled cookies. He’s breathing hard, bent over on all fours, and Noctis can already see the perspiration on his forehead. When he looks up, his eyes are dilated and distant. 

In a heartbeat, Noctis is helping him up, holding him close and helping him over to the couch. Ignis leans his whole weight onto Noctis as they walk, his face nuzzling into the side of Noctis’. His breathing is ragged and uneven. He rasps, “ _Noct_...”

“Shh,” Noctis soothes, easing Ignis down onto the cushions. He flops over like a potato sack, completely boneless. Noctis’ chest clenches.

This isn’t supposed to happen. Ignis is always on suppressants, always in control. He tells Noctis before his heats, and they’re mild and easily managed. Obviously, he missed a few pills. It seems odd for Ignis, but it’s also not out of the realm of possibility—Noctis knows that Ignis is overstressed, and having a new omega around might’ve altered his cycle. 

At least Noctis knows where the pills are kept, and he can make up the difference. He tries to head for the washroom, but Ignis clings to him and whines when he tries to leave. Noctis has to cup his face, rub his cheek, kiss his forehead and promise, “I’m not leaving you, babe. I’ll never leave you. I’ll be right back, okay?”

Ignis visibly struggles for coherency. But he does nod and gasp, “Go.”

Noctis practically runs to the washroom. He slams the medicine cabinet open and rummages through what’s there, breathing a sigh of relief when he finds the bottle of suppressants. 

Then he pulls it out and realizes it’s empty. His heart pounds. 

He can handle it, of course. He can take as many days off as he needs and can stay home to care for the man he loves—he can and he _will_. But Ignis hasn’t gone through a raw heat in _years_ , and Noctis knows how painful they can be. There’s a reason suppressants are so cheap and readily available—almost every omega takes them. As far as Noctis knows, Ignis has taken them ever since his second heat. 

Noctis carries the bottle back into the living room with a profound sense of defeat. He knows Ignis is usually on top of things, but he still feels like he should’ve been double checking—making sure that Ignis was taken care of since Ignis looks after everyone else before himself. Noctis sets the bottle down on the coffee table, and Ignis’ strained expression sinks. 

“I... forgot...” Ignis breathes, before drawing in air and forcing his voice steady. “I apologize... for my oversight...”

“No, it’s okay. You’re busy. You’re allowed to make mistakes.”

Ignis groans. His arms lift, and Noctis steps into them, settling down with Ignis on the couch and pulling him into a fierce embrace. Ignis nuzzles into his shoulder and trembles in his arms. 

He pets Ignis a few times before murmuring the plan: “It’s going to be okay. I’ll take the next few days off and take care of you. It’ll be fine—”

“No,” Ignis mutters, but the noise is muffled, because he can’t seem to stop nosing at Noctis’ throat. Noctis notices that Ignis’ shirt has been unbuttoned halfway, exposing the full brunt of his collar. “You can’t... classes... it’s ‘mportant...”

“I’ll catch up.”

“And... I have work...”

“I’m sure they can manage without you for a few days.”

“ _Noct_ ,” Ignis moans, clinging to Noctis so tightly that he can barely breathe.

Then Ignis abruptly pushes away, and he takes large, gasping breathes as he says, “Please. I... I can manage alone for a while longer. Go to the drugstore. Pick up... more suppressants. I can write down the brand I like.”

“I know your brand. But I can’t leave you—”

“I’m _fine_. But I won’t be if I go much longer. I think... it’s still in the early stages... if you get me some soon, I... I should recover by tomorrow morning, and you can even... supervise... me on Saturday...”

“Sunday,” Noctis quietly corrects. If Ignis is already mixing up the days, that’s not a good sign.

Ignis shakes his head and moves right on. “Sunday. I’ll be right as rain on... Monday? And you can go to class—”

“Ignis, I’m not going to—”

“Noct _please_.” After a shaky look, Ignis removes his glasses—Noctis helps him find the coffee table to put them down on. His vision isn’t that bad: he just seems that far gone. But his desperation eats at Noctis. Ignis groans, “There’s... a drugstore just... down the block... if you hurry, you won’t even be twenty minutes...”

Noctis still doesn’t want to leave. He can sense Ignis’ distress, and it kills him. He wants to kiss Ignis so badly, to hold him and soothe away the heat, fuck out the feral desires that are driving him mad. But Ignis keeps his distance and chokes, “ _Please_.” 

Slowly, Noctis nods. He hates to do it, but he does get up. He gives Ignis a tight hug and murmurs in Ignis’ ear, “It’s going to be okay.”

Ignis burrows into Noctis and claws at the back of Noctis’ shirt. Noctis lets Ignis paw it right off him, and he hurries to change into another one while Ignis curls up on the couch and presses the shirt to his nose. One last look, and Noctis is leaving.

He grabs the keys to Ignis’ car on the way. He’s not as good a driver as Ignis, but he’s good enough, and he doesn’t want to waste any time. He only has a vague idea of where the drugstore is that Ignis is talking about, but he doesn’t think to get his phone and check until he’s already in the parking lot and it’s too late to go back. He decides to make do with his memory and gets behind the wheel. 

The ride there is nerve-wracking, and it takes him way too long to find the place. Worse, there’s a line at the counter. He’s tempted to just announce his title and tell everyone else to bow and back off. By the time he finally gets his hands on the suppressants, he’s glaring everyone he passes out of his way. Then it’s back to the car, the building, the elevator. He opens his apartment door, and the pheromones nearly bowl him over. 

It’s not just Ignis anymore. Noctis rushes into the living room, only to find his first omega cuddled up with his temporary new one, the two of them intertwined in a pile of sheets on the floor. The nest isn’t nearly as precise and tidy as Ignis’ usually are, but it must be comfortable enough, because Ignis and Prompto seem perfectly happily to be ensconced in it. Ignis’ shirt has been torn the rest of the way open, and Prompto’s jacket is down around his elbows, his socks off and one pant leg rolled up to his knee. Their arms are both around one another, hands slowly petting and rubbing, exploring each other’s bodies. Noctis watches, wide-eyed, as they exchange a series of slow, sloppy kisses. 

Ignis is the one turned more towards Noctis, and when he spots Noctis, he pulls back and lets out a deep, ragged moan. Prompto whines and nuzzles into the crux of Ignis’ neck and shoulder, his grip tightening around Ignis’ waist. Ignis tries to say something, but instead just turns back to press his forehead against Prompto’s. 

The temperature in the room seems to have sky rocketed. Noctis can feel his own pulse quickening. They’re both mostly dressed, and the heat isn’t yet full force, but the sight of them together, even just lightly cuddling, is enough to make Noctis’ pants tight. Ignis is so _gorgeous_ like this, and Prompto’s somehow equally as hot. They’re all flushed cheeks and heavy lashes and wet, shining lips. It’s all Noctis can do not to drop his drawers and join them. 

He wants to. In that moment, he wants nothing more than to throw the suppressants out and drag them both off to his bed, then do nothing for the next several days but fuck them senseless. 

Unfortunately, he has a conscience, and it nags at him that _this isn’t right._ Prompto’s not supposed to be in heat. He’s just affected by being around another omega, one he didn’t know was going to be like this, and it’s not fair to let him fall down that hole. Noctis takes a step closer, then stops when he realizes just how much they’re affecting _him_. A part of him is annoyed they haven’t stripped each other yet. Ignis looks _so good_ when all his formal clothes are ripped away, and Noctis has never seen Prompto naked, but he _wants to._

He gulps and says, “Prompto.”

Prompto freezes. Slowly, he turns away from Ignis, blinking wide-eyed up at Noctis. He looks just as wrecked as Ignis does. A bright flush has drowned out his freckles, and his blue eyes are half-lidded and hazy. He murmurs dizzily, “N... oct...?”

Noctis swallows down his guilt. “I’m sorry. I completely forgot... I should’ve called you back and said not to come over...” Prompto’s brows knit together in an adorable expression of confusion. Noctis explains, “I shouldn’t have exposed you to an omega in heat; it’s sucked you in.”

Prompto shrugs and mumbles, “It’s fine.” Ignis nips at his ear, and Prompto giggles sluggishly and kisses Ignis’ jaw. 

That’s already too much. Prompto doesn’t know what he’s doing. Really, Ignis doesn’t either. Noctis is the only one with control over his faculties, and that leaves him with the worst job.

It kills him, but he comes forward and kneels down to try and separate them. It’s a struggle; they cling to one another like crazy, and when Noctis finally manages to extricate Prompto, Prompto whines like he’s been physically wounded. It breaks Noctis’ heart, but he keeps going, tugging Prompto away. He manages to get Prompto out of the nest, and Ignis crawls to the edge of it, arms extended. 

Noctis promises him, “I’ll be right back.” Ignis drops his arms and obediently nods, but he doesn’t look happy about it. Noctis hates doing that. 

Noctis has to half drag Prompto all the way into the next room before Prompto seems able to support his own weight. It’s bizarre, because they’re not _really_ a pack, and Prompto shouldn’t have that loyalty instinct to Ignis. Apparently, he does anyway. Noctis manages to get Prompto onto the bed, but Prompto immediately tries to crawl off. 

Noctis has to push him back and order, “Stay.”

Prompto’s whole face scrunches up with his pout. It breaks some of the tension simply because it’s so _cute_. Noctis has to resist the urge to kiss it. 

He keeps one hand on Prompto’s shoulder, holding Prompto in place, and breaks out the big guns. He feels bad doing it, but it’s the only thing he can think of. “Prompto... you want to be a good omega for me, right?”

Prompto’s pout shatters. His mouth falls open, and he looks up at Noctis in wonderment. 

“You’re going to obey your alpha, aren’t you?”

Prompto bites his lip, then hurriedly nods. He even manages a breathy, “Y-yeah...”

“Good. Because I need you to do something for me that you’re not going to like.” Prompto wilts again, but Noctis keeps going. “I know you want to be in Ignis’ nest right now, but that would be wrong, because we didn’t agree on that beforehand. If I let you stay with us this time, it’d be taking advantage of you. Do you understand?” Clearly, Prompto doesn’t. Noctis just hopes he’ll remember it in the morning, and remember that Noctis did the right thing. “I’m sorry I called you over. I don’t think you’re in any shape to go home right now, so I don’t want you wandering off, but... can you just spend the night here for me? In my bed?”

Prompto startles, then looks around, and his hands smooth over the sheets. It seems to have just occurred to him that he’s in an alpha’s bed. It’s not really ideal either, given that they’re not bonded, and he shouldn’t be smothering Prompto with his pheromones like that, but it’s definitely a better option than involving Prompto in the sex-a-thon that’s about to go down in the living room. Biting his bottom lip, Prompto looks up at Noctis again. 

“Can you do that for me, Prompto? I have to go take care of Ignis now, since he’s really in heat, but I want you to be alright and sleep well, okay? I’m sure you’ll feel better soon.”

Prompto doesn’t look okay so much as sad, but he does nod. Noctis tries to reward him for it, petting back through his hair and murmuring, “Good boy. Thank you, Prompto. You’re being a really good omega.” Prompto melts into the touch, smiling happily, but that ends when Noctis pulls away. “You know where the kitchen and the bathroom are. You can do anything you like here. Just... stay away from Ignis until this has passed.” Prompto whines brokenly, but Noctis thinks he’s listening.

Noctis hates leaving him. He looks so helpless, and it feels awful to walk away from that, but Noctis knows it’s only temporary. Just like their connection. He offers a pained smile as he closes the door, and then he makes himself walk away. 

Ignis is right where Noctis left him, and he doesn’t look particularly happy with his alpha. But he’s not thinking straight, and surely when he does come to, he’ll be glad Noctis stayed strong. 

He brightens up when he realizes Noctis is joining him, and after the first kiss, he’s putty in Noctis’ hands. He coos and moans and writhes as Noctis touches him, spreading his legs ever wider and begging Noctis to fill him. He opens his mouth when Noctis orders it, and he swallows down the pill he’s given, but they both know it’ll take at least the night to stabilize him. Which is perfectly fine. Because once Noctis gets his hands on Ignis, he doesn’t want to let go, and he kisses Ignis down into the nest and starts clawing all their clothes away. 

Ignis is swiftly placated. He’s happy to have Noctis—he bubbles over with his praise and adoration—he kisses and touches everywhere on Noctis’ body that he can reach. It’s strange to see him so undone, but it’s _right_ too, because this is a special side of Ignis that only Noctis gets to see. Noctis _loves_ it. He feels bad that it took Ignis by surprise, but the way they come together makes it worth the trouble. Noctis showers Ignis in affection and makes love to him over and over again, until the two of them are nothing but a squirming mess of sweat and hormones, never fully parting. Noctis doesn’t fall asleep until the sun’s already up again and exhaustion claims him. 

He’s asleep for a few hours, and then he’s being gently nuzzled into, and he opens his eyes to see Ignis curled up beside him. They’re both stark naked and reek of sweat and sex. Ignis’ bangs are a mess across his forehead, his glasses long gone. 

He gives Noctis a lingering kiss, then settles back and sighs. Noctis fondly pets him, only to remember that this isn’t the only omega he has to take care of. 

With sore limbs and a heavy heart, Noctis pushes up and fumbles back into his clothes. Ignis quietly watches him, eyes a little clearer. The suppressants must be working. Noctis still kisses his cheek and promises, “I’ll be right back,” before leaving. Ignis, thoroughly fucked and probably too weak to stand, stays in his nest. 

Starting with the kitchen, Noctis pours three glasses of water. He downs one himself and brings the second to Ignis. 

The third he takes to his bedroom, where he sucks in a breath and knocks on the door. 

After a bit of shuffling, the door creaks open. Prompto’s on the other side, still blushing but fully dressed. His eyes are downcast, and he stays that way while Noctis clumsily asks, “Um... how are you?”

Prompto shrugs. “Fine.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t... I should’ve called you back...”

“S’fine.” Prompto doesn’t smell of heat and _need_ anymore, but it still unsettles Noctis to think of how long he had to go like that alone. It makes Noctis wish he had contact numbers, but he doesn’t know any of Prompto’s friends, and it seems like Prompto’s parents haven’t been home lately to call. Not that Noctis has their number. Maybe he could’ve called Gladiolus to give Prompto a ride, but those kind of alpha pheromones around a shaken omega would probably have been devastating. 

Noctis doesn’t know what else he could’ve done. But he does know he probably didn’t do enough, and he burns with guilt as he watches Prompto awkwardly shift behind the door. 

“I can... I can drive you home, um... in a bit... I’d just like to make sure Ignis is okay before I... I mean, he forgot to take suppressants, so that was a real heat for him...”

“It’s okay,” Prompto mumbles. “I can catch a bus.”

“But—”

“Really, Noct, it’s fine.”

It doesn’t look like it’s fine. But at least he hasn’t taken off Noctis’ collar, so he can’t hate Noctis too much. 

Noctis quietly adds, just in case there’s any doubt and that’s what’s bugging Prompto: “I didn’t take advantage of you.”

Prompto instantly says, “I know, I didn’t mean—uh, of course. I... is Ignis okay?”

Noctis nods. “He looks better. The suppressants should be kicking in by now.” He scratches the back of his head, thinks about it, and trails off, “Um... I should probably still be with him though, so...”

“Right, I’m sorry, I’ll go—”

“Prom—”

“No, I’m sorry, I interrupted—”

“It’s my fault; I called you.”

“Yeah, but... I shouldn’t have... when I saw Ignis was like that, I should’ve just...”

“But he’s irresistible. I get that.”

Prompto releases a hollow laugh. When it dies, he hesitates, then takes a step forward.

Noctis takes the hint and gets out of the way, letting Prompto past him. He walks Prompto to the door. It occurs to him belatedly that now his bedding’s going to smell of Prompto, and while that idea gives him a subtle thrill, he should probably wash his sheets immediately. Letting that linger isn’t fair to anyone. He knows he’s _supposed_ to scent Prompto, but that’s only one way, and only at the university. He shouldn’t be savouring Prompto’s scent in his bed. 

He wants to give Prompto a hug before they part, but he knows he must smell awful and he probably just messed up. So they just leave with awkward waves. His heart aches when the door closes. 

But he still has Ignis. He returns to the nest, where Ignis is sitting up, balanced on his thighs to keep his abused rear off the ground. Noctis gets a tiny glimmer of regret that Ignis will recover soon, because it really was fun to have him bare and desperate for his alpha’s touch.

Noctis sinks down to envelope him, and Ignis sinks into that embrace. But he does mutter accusingly against Noctis’ chest, “Why did you make him leave our nest?”

Noctis stiffens. “I was trying to do the right thing.”

Ignis makes a grunt of disapproval. Noctis understands; it doesn’t feel right to him either. 

At least Ignis forgives him; he pulls Noctis back down, and they lie together until Noctis has the energy to fill up his beloved omega again.


	7. Act

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Trigger warning in this chapter for non-graphic attempted assault.

It’s been a week, and he can still smell Noctis’ bed all around him when he closes his eyes. But that’s just in his head, and he knows it—in reality, Noctis’ scent is quickly wearing off. He really should call and ask for a top up, but he just can’t bring himself to do it. He hovers over the _send_ button on his phone, then deletes it all and pockets the cell. It’s his own fault. He shouldn’t have gotten tangled up in their business. 

But he likes Ignis _so much_ , and when he saw Ignis’ nest, he was so sure he _belonged there._

He doesn’t, and he realizes that now, in the sober light of day. Noctis did the right thing. Prompto appreciates that. Noctis is a good man. Ignis is lucky. 

Prompto is anxious instead of bored, even though he’s got twenty minutes until his next class and absolutely nothing to do during it. Normally, he’d whip his camera out and play around or boot up King’s Knight, but it’s getting too cold to bother with menial shoots, and if he logs in online, Noctis might see him. It’s not that Prompto’s _avoiding_ his sponsor. They’ve been cordial in texts. It’s just _awkward_ , because Prompto crashed something profoundly intimate, and he can’t shake the feeling that he’s one giant third wheel. 

He should call Ignis. He should apologize. He misses seeing Ignis—hasn’t gotten a ride in a week—but that would be even worse, to go behind Noctis’ back and contact his omega. So Prompto just dawdles around campus. Then he realizes he doesn’t want to be around anyone else either, so he stops loitering in the halls and cafeteria and instead finds a wooden bench behind one of the buildings. It’s nice and empty, like he wants. It’s also _cold_ , but he’s started keeping a striped scarf in his bag, and he pulls it out to bundle up. Unfortunately, that only protects his neck and shoulders—his butt still doesn’t appreciate the frozen seat. 

He stays seated anyway, at least until he hears footsteps around the corner. Something prickles along the back of his neck—an alpha with raging pheromones—and it gets him to his feet. His breath starts coming quicker, but he tells himself it’ll be fine. It’s a busy school. If an alpha’s in rut, someone will notice and send them home. Prompto shouldn’t make things any worse—he’s not unclaimed. He still has _Noctis._

A large, older man turns the corner, practically radiating alpha energy. It’s another student, one with dyed blue hair and a line-art tattoo across his forehead. He takes one look at Prompto, grins, and stalks closer. 

Prompto’s inner voice screams to _run_ , but for some reason, he holds his ground. He shouldn’t _have_ to run. It’s school—it’s supposed to be safe—he’s supposed to be taken anyway—he should really train up like Ignis so he can protect himself. He probably can’t as he is, but he can try, and his fists clench at his sides as he squares his feet. 

Meandering right up to him, the alpha slurs, “Well hello there, _omega_.” He sounds halfway drunk, but that could just be a rut talking. “Are you out here all by your lonesome? Poor thing, you must be cold...”

The alpha reaches out for Prompto’s hand, but Prompto takes a step back. He tries to show in every fibre of his being how disinterested he is, but the alpha doesn’t seem to be picking up on that. His grin just twists wider, and he chuckles, “Ooh, feisty. Come now, a cute little thing like you could use a real man—” 

“I have one,” Prompto barks, which probably isn’t smart, but too late. The alpha just looks amused. Noctis’ scent really must be all but gone. Prompto shouldn’t need that to tell someone off, but he knows it’s the easiest way out: speaking the only language a drunken alpha can understand. He wonders why the collar isn’t enough, then realizes he’s covering it up—he hurried starts pulling his scarf away. 

The alpha comes at him again while he’s fumbling with it, but Prompto dodges back. As soon as the scarf’s off, he wrenches open the neckline of his shirt, showing off the thick collar wrapped around his throat. The alpha finally falters, frowning at the new evidence. That seems to get through to his primal brain—he falters. 

Then he squints, leaning in to peer at the pendant, before scoffing, “Wait, is that the royal crest? That has to be fake!”

Prompto’s cheeks flush. Even though he understands why someone would think he couldn’t possibly belong to royalty, it hurts to hear. “It’s not! I’m sponsored by Prince Noctis!”

The alpha actually laughs, like the idea’s absolutely _absurd_ , and then he steps in and grabs Prompto’s wrist.

Prompto wrenches away and shoves the alpha so hard that the alpha loses balance, toppling over into the flowerbed behind him. Prompto freezes—he didn’t mean to push that hard. The alpha looks up at him in shock, then fury. 

He slowly gets back to his feet, and Prompto braces himself for a fight, teeth clenched and heart pounding. 

“Need backup?”

Prompto’s head whirls around at the sound of Noctis’ voice, and then Noctis is joining him. Prompto’s mouth falls open, and the other alpha gapes before hurriedly backing up. Noctis takes another step forward, and the alpha balks—he mutters a disgruntled, “My apologies,” and leaves the way he came. 

Noctis whips out his phone and types out a message: “One sec, I have to let the school know they’ve got an unruly alpha on the loose—either he’s in rut or he’s naturally dangerous; gotta take care of it either way.” That’s over in a few seconds, and then Noctis is rounding on Prompto. 

His eyes are burning, frown so deep that it makes Prompto nervous all over again. He mumbles a weak, “Sorry.”

Noctis’ expression softens. Prompto blurts, “I didn’t mean to cause any trouble—it’s my fault, I had my collar covered up, and I should’ve—I mean, not that that was okay, but like, it wouldn’t have been a problem for _you_ if I’d just stayed on top of scenting, and—”

Noctis’ hand clasps around Prompto’s arm. Where the last alpha’s touch repulsed him, this one has Prompto melting. It lets his pulse finally putter back to normal, his breath coming even. Noctis even lightly rubs him whilst asking, voice deep and sympathetic, “Are you alright?”

Blushing and nodding, Prompto answers, “Fine.”

“Are you sure? I’m sorry that happened. You should be protected from that stuff; I should’ve asked to scent you earlier.”

“No, it’s... it’s okay.”

“It’s _not_.” Noctis’ face hardens again. “That asshole should’ve have come anywhere near you.” The growl in his voice is borderline _possessive_ , and even though that should scare Prompto, it doesn’t. It _excites_ him. He realizes, the fiercer Noctis stares at him, then Noctis is actually _jealous_.

That, or just very worried and over protective. Which is also good. Prompto’s already forgotten the earlier trouble. He can feel himself timidly smiling as he promises his prospective alpha, “I’m fine.”

Noctis’ brow knits together. He clearly disagrees. “No, Prom. That wasn’t okay. I... you’re my omega. I’m supposed to protect you.”

 _That_ brings down Prompto’s mood. He bites his bottom lip, which has Noctis looking even more concerned, and after a deep breath, Prompto decides to just say what’s eating him up: “But... I’m not yours.”

Noctis stiffens. He looks at Prompto imploringly, but Prompto can’t say anything else—he drops his gaze and shuffles his feet. Noctis’ grip tightens on his arm.

There might be an ever-so-slight tremour in Noctis’ voice. “Prompto... I really am sorry. For everything. If... if you want to dissolve our contract—”

“No!” Prompto’s head shoots back up, panic filling him. “I mean—that’s not what I meant! I just—I’m sorry. I just meant... like, I’m not _really_ yours. Not like Ignis is. I’m just... a school contract.”

Noctis opens his mouth, but no words come out. Prompto regrets everything. He just wants it to go back to the way it was before he spent a night in Noctis’ amazingly comfortable bed, listening to two wonderful men make love all night. He risks stepping close enough to tuck his face into Noctis’ shoulder, and he mumbles into it, “’M sorry. Scent me, please?”

Noctis doesn’t. Instead, he tugs Prompto up by the hair. His fingers slide to the back of Prompto’s head, cradling him in place. Noctis’ eyes meet Prompto’s. He tilts his face and closes the gap between them. 

He _kisses_ Prompto, and not lightly. His blunt teeth nip at Prompto’s bottom lip, and Prompto opens right up to let his alpha in. 

Noctis’ tongue slips into his mouth, pushes deeper, curls to trace his walls and starts thrusting. Prompto shakes and moans, arms darting up to wrap around Noctis’ neck. He can’t believe Noct is really _kissing_ him. But he’s exuberant. He quivers with joy. He kisses Noctis back just as hard, probably worse, probably too desperate. But he can’t help himself. He loves the mild flavour of Noctis’ tongue and the softness of his lips. Noctis’ hands fall to Prompto’s hips and dig into his jeans, then start shuffling him over. 

Prompto’s maneuvered around, and the next thing he knows, he’s being shoved up against a wall. It’s cold and hard but welcome—he needs the support. He needs more of Noctis. He groans into Noctis’ mouth and drowns in the sensation. 

His alarm goes off. It’s the greatest tragedy of Prompto’s life. Noctis pulls away, glancing down towards the bag at Prompto’s hip. His phone blares right through the fabric, letting him know that his class just started. 

His fingers, though shaking, still cling to Noctis as he whines, “I have class.”

Noctis nods, kisses him again, then ducks to rub at his neck. Prompto whines and leans into it, shifting and arching to help the process. Noctis scents him properly, leaving him giddy and thoroughly claimed. 

“Call me,” Noctis mutters. Another kiss. Then he backs off, brushes a hand back through his hair, and leaves. 

Prompto’s trembling. It takes him a moment to gather himself enough to grab his scarf off the pavement where it fell. 

He hobbles to class in a daze, is five minutes late, and is confused but grateful anyway.


	8. Roll

Prompto comes over more and more often, until he’s there almost every week, save for the holidays which he spends with his family, and then the odd stretch where he can’t spare the time. The semester’s nearing its close, and Noctis should really be studying just as hard, but Ignis doesn’t have the heart to suggest he see Prompto any less. A part of that might be selfish—Ignis enjoys the odd occasion where he comes home to Prompto too.

One night he arrives late, having spent far too long at the Citadel, to find all the lights off. He knows the apartment isn’t empty. He can sense his alpha close at hand, and Prompto’s shoes are by the door. 

Ignis steps out of his carefully, quiet as he slips out of his jacket. He creeps into the living room without making a sound, not wanting to disturb them. He finds both young men on the couch, cuddled up close, turned towards one another and gently tracing each other’s bodies as they exchange slow kisses. The television screen emits just enough light to see their roaming hands and wet lips. A familiar pause screen anthem is softly droning in the background. 

For a long moment, Ignis just watches them—the way they cling to one another and share such obvious affection. They’re both still in uniform, minus the jackets discarded on the floor, their ties loosened and strewn across the cushions. Noctis’ hand lifts to touch Prompto’s collar, and Prompto pours a deep moan into Noctis’ mouth. 

Ignis can feel his temperature rising. He looks at them and he _wants_ , but he also doesn’t dare ruin the moment. So instead, he just eyes them from afar, patiently happy for them. 

It confirms for him what he already knew— _he wants Prompto in his pack_. He needs to keep Prompto in his life. He wants to keep his alpha happy, and he thinks the three of them can balance that well. 

After a long breath, Ignis forces himself to move. They’re having their own moment, and he can respect that. They’ll likely be hungry when they’re finished—it’s nearing eight o’clock, and Noctis really should have eaten, but knowing him, he won’t have. He’ll have just contented himself with devouring Prompto’s mouth, and Prompto won’t have said anything otherwise. 

Deciding to throw together some quick dinner wraps for them, Ignis opens the fridge. It makes the tiniest pop of air, but it’s enough for Noctis to stop and call, “Ignis?”

Since he’s already been caught, Ignis goes to flick the kitchenette light on. He tells them on the way, “Please, don’t stop on my account.”

Even in the dim light, it’s easy to see Prompto’s blush. He wipes the back of his hand over his mouth and climbs off the couch, though Noctis’ hand follows him and catches his wrist. He mumbles, “Sorry, I, uh... I should get going...”

“Have you eaten?”

“Huh?”

“Have you eaten yet?”

Prompto looks at Noctis, who guiltily answers, “Chips.”

Ignis resists the urge to roll his eyes. “That isn’t a proper dinner. Please, stay and eat something of actual value.”

Prompto still looks unsure, so Ignis repeats, “Please.”

Prompto says, “Okay,” and looks like he wants to say more but doesn’t. “I’ll, um... just go clean up, if that’s okay...”

Ignis nods, and Noctis lets go, so Prompto can head for the washroom. He passes the kitchenette on the way, hesitates, and Ignis comes close enough to put a hand on his shoulder and offer a soft smile. Prompto nervously returns it, then seems to relax a little. It makes Ignis wonder what he’s harboring—if he’s just worrying about being caught with Noctis or if, perhaps, he’s still troubled by the incident that happened with Ignis’ heat. That was quite a while ago, and though they haven’t directly spoken of it, they seemed to be alright. Ignis has done his best to make Prompto feel wanted. Sometimes Prompto seems to get that, and other times he doesn’t. 

At the end of the day, the ball’s in Noctis’ court. But Noctis is a bad communicator, so Ignis adds, “It’s good to see, Prompto.” It hasn’t been that long, but it’s always good. 

The last of Prompto’s nerves seem to dissipate, and he mumbles, “You too, Iggy,” before continuing on. That leaves Ignis alone in the kitchen area and Noctis on the couch. 

Noctis is at his side before he’s even opened the package of wraps. An arm slips around Ignis’ waist, and then he’s being spun around and pulled up tight to Noctis’ body. 

A second later, a tongue is in his mouth, and Ignis moans as Noctis buries a growl into him. Noctis kisses him _hard_ , pulls him in crushingly close, and even bites into his bottom lip. It’s all Ignis can do to gasp and keep his head clear. 

Noctis waits until he’s stolen all of Ignis’ air, then parts their lips enough to hiss, “You’re still my omega.”

Ignis rasps, “I know. ...But I like the taste of Prompto on you.”

Noctis’ serious expression twists into a grin. But he steps away when Prompto reemerges. It shatters Ignis’ hopes that Noctis is finally _getting it._

That hope returns when after dinner, after Prompto’s hugged them both and left, Noctis drags Ignis to the bedroom and asks, “That thing you said earlier...? Could you say it again... and tell me _more_?”


	9. Push

The semester’s almost over, and Noctis is _so ready_ for the summer. He’s tired of being busy all the time, of wasting all day on class and thinking about assignments afterwards, of trying to squeeze in fun on the weekends but still coming home to overdue papers. He’s kept up as best he can, and he _thinks_ he’ll make it out with good grades, but that’s not satisfying enough to justify all the time and energy wasted on his schooling. If he could just bail out early and not have everyone on his ass for it, he would. 

He’s _finally_ finished the paper due on Friday, but he still feels grouchy. Annoyed. He’s got an itch he can’t seem to scratch, and worse, Ignis isn’t around to scratch it for him. 

He eventually breaks and texts Ignis, who replies with an apology and no promises. Noctis knows Ignis works just as hard. But he hates hearing that Ignis might not be back until tomorrow evening. He barely restrains himself from texting _traitor_ , and instead texts Prompto. 

Prompto really needs to work on his portfolio. Noctis knows that. Noctis should be studying for finals. He asks Prompto over anyway, and Prompto, after a bit of convincing, agrees. It lets Noctis’ bristling frustration finally settle. He can breathe again and stops pacing back and forth across his living room floor. 

Then he starts to think Prompto’s taking too long and gets antsy all over again. He can feel the tension in his body building up. He finds himself in the bedroom, digging through his drawers for something of Ignis’ that he can press against his nose. Someone knocks on the front door before he can find anything. 

He’s breathing hard by the time he’s answering, and then he’s opening the door to Prompto’s smiling face, and all Noctis can think is: _yes_. 

He practically pounces on Prompto. It doesn’t matter that any of his neighbours could see him and call the newspapers. He throws his hand into Prompto’s hair and crashes his mouth against Prompto’s, kissing him as fiercely as possible. Prompto _oomphs!_ in surprise but then kisses back, happily wrapping his arms around Noctis and returning it. Noctis explores the entirety of Prompto’s mouth, then realizes he needs _more_. 

He tugs Prompto in by the belt loops. Prompto fiddles the door closed behind them, snorting, “You’re in a mood.”

“You’re delicious,” Noctis growls. He shoves Prompto up against the door and starts again, filling Prompto up with his tongue. His hands cling to Prompto’s sides and his crotch rocks forward to press against Prompto’s thighs, grinding until he can feel Prompto’s response. Prompto makes a muffled noise that Noctis swallows down, while Noctis just keeps going. 

Prompto tastes _so good_. It’s been too long since they made out. School’s the worst. He can’t wait until they both graduate and have all the time in the world to fuck like rabbits. They won’t even get real jobs—Prompto can work as the royal concubine, and Ignis can pay the rest of the bills—they’ll start taking over the housework and fuck Ignis too when he comes home. 

One of Prompto’s hands worms between their sandwiched bodies. Noctis rubs against it, wanting Prompto to _touch him_. They’re wearing too many clothes. Prompto struggles a bit before breaking away from him, turning aside and gasping—Noctis lets him breath and scatters nips and kisses down his jaw instead. Prompto rasps, “N-Noct... I think... you must be going into rut...”

Somewhere in Noctis’ foggy mind, that theory rings true. It makes sense. All he wants to do is fuck his cute omegas into oblivion. Nothing else matters. Noctis hisses, “Want you.”

Prompto moans. His body feels so warm, hotter everywhere that Noctis touches him—Noctis can see the flush rising to the top of his skin. The tent in Prompto’s pants is growing as hard as Noctis’—he obviously wants this too. 

But he avoids Noctis’ roaming mouth and mumbles, “You, uh... should wait for Ignis...”

“Working,” Noctis grunts. “Want _you_.”

“...’You sure?”

Noctis kisses Prompto to demonstrate just how sure he is. It works: when he pulls away, Prompto’s eyes are just as clouded. Unable to resist a smirk, Noctis nips at Prompto’s bottom lip, then pulls him back from the door. Noctis tugs him by the wrist into the living room, over to the couch, where he shoves Prompto down. 

Prompto flops right onto the couch like a pliant doll ready to be played with. He even spreads his legs, giving Noctis plenty of room to crawl up in-between them. In less than a second, Noctis is on him again, hovering over him on all fours but grinding down to _feel_ him. Noctis drags their whole bodies together while he fiddles with Prompto’s buttons. 

Prompto’s still half in his uniform—the shirt and the pants part, at least. Noctis already changed into a sweatshirt, and he stops long enough to sit up and wrench that away, then returns to revealing bit by bit of Prompto’s creamy chest. Prompto mewls and squirms beneath Noctis’ touch but doesn’t do anything to stop him. Noctis kisses Prompto as he goes, ducking to peck Prompto’s collarbone, his pecs, his abs, his stomach. Somehow, he manages to control his shaking hands enough to not immediately rip open Prompto’s pants. 

He looks up instead, pleading with his eyes and asking, “Can I?”

Prompto covers his mouth with one hand. It doesn’t at all stop the filthy noises spilling out of him. Eyes shut and cheeks red, Prompto nods. Noctis kisses his hip for thanks and starts tugging down both Prompto’s pants and boxers at once. Prompto yelps, so Noctis stops, but then Prompto mumbles, “Sorry,” and lies back for Noctis to keep going. 

Noctis pulls them all the way off. He tosses them across the living room and spreads his hands over Prompto’s bare legs, ruffling through the thin blond hairs and tracing up his thighs. Prompto’s skin is ridiculously _soft_. And there’s so much of it to look at. All that’s left is his open shirt and his socks. Prompto looks beautiful, lying there exposed, quiet lounging under Noctis’ hungry gaze. 

In fact, it’s one of the hottest things that Noctis has ever seen. Prompto’s cock is big for an omega, barely smaller than Noctis, jutting halfway up and stiff with interest. The balls beneath it are smooth and taut, cute enough that Noctis wants to bend down and suck them into his mouth. He doesn’t, because he doesn’t want to get carried away when there’s other things to do—he wants his first orgasm to be _inside_ this lovely creature. He’ll mouth at and lick up and map out all the rest later. Then his eyes climb to Prompto’s collar, and he remembers that this gorgeous omega is _his_. He can enjoy this any time he likes. 

He’s _so_ happy. He leans in to give Prompto a long, full kiss. Prompto moans into his mouth, and when Noctis breaks it off, he kisses Prompto’s cheek and murmurs, “You’re so fucking _hot_ , Prom.”

Prompto groans. His hands lift to encompass Noctis’ back but slide away when Noctis straightens. Whining over the loss, Prompto paws at Noctis’ belt. 

Noctis jerks it away, throws it over his shoulder, pops his pants open and asks, “Can I fuck you?” He doesn’t care if it’s crude. He can barely think enough to form words. He wants Prompto _so badly_ , and Prompto looks all too eager for him.

Prompto whimpers, “ _Noct_ ,” and lifts his hips off the cushions. Finally, Noctis can see it: Prompto wants him as badly as he wants Prompto. They _belong_ together. He can’t believe they’ve been dancing around it so long, never quite reaching this amazing truth.

He drops his hand to Prompto’s cock, wrapping tightly around its thick heat and pumping it once. Prompto goes _wild_. He cries out and bucks up into Noctis’ hand, hips trembling and fingers digging into the couch. It doesn’t even seem to matter to him that Noctis is pumping him raw. Noctis doesn’t mean to. He should be finding Prompto’s hole, but for a moment, he’s mesmerized with Prompto’s dick: bringing Prompto pleasure is so wildly fulfilling. He can’t wait to see Prompto’s face mid-orgasm. 

He can’t wait to be balls-deep in Prompto’s ass. He lifts his hand to lick his fingers, then draws them down between Prompto’s legs, pressing into the crease and rubbing until he finds it. To his delight, it’s already leaking slick. Copious amounts of slick. As soon as he pushes against the puckered brim, he pops inside, and natural juices gush out around him. Prompto whines all the louder, head tossing back and chest arching up. It makes Prompto’s nipples stand out—the little pink nubs are starting to harden. 

Noctis leans forward to run his tongue over one while he pistons into Prompto’s hole. It’s easy going: Prompto’s already flexing open and sopping wet for him. He can’t believe they haven’t done this before. They’ve survived so long on quick outings after school and fleeting kisses on the weekend, but with Prompto this soaked, clearly he could’ve been fucking Prompto this whole time. 

He licks Prompto’s nipple until it’s completely hard, then sucks it into his mouth. A strangled groan pours out above him, and a hand threads into his hair, holding his head down. He keeps rolling the bud around his tongue while he adds a second finger to Prompto’s channel. The tight walls shudder but stretch to accommodate him. He makes his way up to three fingers before can’t take it anymore, and he pulls off of Prompto’s chest with a wet popping sound and a trail of saliva draping down to the abused nipple. 

It’s hard for Noctis to sit up and position himself right, mainly because he can’t stop shaking and a little because he can’t stop staring at Prompto’s face. He wants to brand that already blissful expression into his brain. He wants to close his eyes every night and see exactly this: Prompto splayed out before him, flushed from head to toe and quivering with need. He finally steadies himself by grabbing both of Prompto’s thighs and hiking Prompto up into his lap, positioning his cock to Prompto’s hole. 

He lets his tip nudge the entrance, then double-checks, “Ready, babe?”

Like a gift from the Astrals, Prompto moans, “Yes, _please_.”

Noctis slams inside. It’s immediately perfect. Raw pleasure rockets through him, and it’s all he can do not to just collapse on top of Prompto and start fucking him like crazy. 

The only solace is that Prompto seems just as far-gone. He moans helplessly and clings to Noctis’ shoulders, holding on as Noctis comes down to kiss him. Noctis tries to keep his full weight off of Prompto, but he lets his chest arch in to rub over Prompto’s skin, Prompto’s hard cock pressing into his stomach. He reaches between them to collect as much of the slick dribbling out of Prompto’ ass he can, then uses that to get a good grip on Prompto’s cock. He waits until he’s got Prompto’s shaft in his fist before he starts moving. 

He wants to thrust in all at once, but he loves Prompto too much for that—he knows he’s big, and Prompto feels so _tight_ , so Noctis goes as slow as he can stand. Which probably isn’t slow at all. He rocks inside, a little deeper on each go, wanting to just sink into Prompto’s glorious channel. Every bit of the journey is excruciatingly wonderful. He finally gets balls-deep, and then all he can do is mindlessly grind in, making sure Prompto feels _all_ of him.

Wet kisses scatter across his cheek. He returns to kissing Prompto properly as he starts to thrust in and out, pumping Prompto’s cock in time with it. He goes all the way in every time, as deep as possible, searching for the right angle. When he finds it, Prompto practically spasms in his arms, and he hammers into that spot over and over as Prompto sobs and clings to him. Noctis fills him up with tongue and cock and _makes love to him_ for as long as he can last. 

Noctis wants to last forever—to do nothing but fuck this lovely omega for the rest of his life, stopping only long enough to satiate Ignis too. But the rut’s too intense and Prompto feels too good—Noctis barrels over the edge too soon. He comes in Prompto’s ass with a wild roar and his head buried in Prompto’s shoulder. He strokes Prompto mercilessly until Prompto follows, crying out while Noctis is still panting. White fills his vision. He can’t feel anything but _good_. He finishes painting Prompto’s insides just as Prompto splatters his hand, and then he dizzily pumps that out while he grinds the rest inside. 

For a long moment, the two of them are still. Noctis stays half on top of Prompto, stays encased in Prompto’s pulsing channel, and scatters lazy kisses along the side of Prompto’s face. Prompto’s panting hard and reeks of sex. The whole room stinks. But it’s not enough. Noctis needs to keep going. 

His kisses become hungrier, and he nips his way to Prompto’s mouth, using one messy hand to turn Prompto’s head towards him. Prompto tiredly indulges Noctis’ feral tongue, but Noctis starts fondling Prompto’s cock and balls until Prompto’s squirming and hard again too. 

One kiss leads into another, one lick into a nip, Noctis mouths his way down Prompto’s chin, and the next thing he knows, he’s finding Prompto’s scent gland and biting into it. He doesn’t even think about it. It just feels _natural_ , so right—Prompto’s already wearing his collar and plugged up with his seed: of course Prompto’s body should be covered in the marks of Noctis’ ardor. Prompto whimpers and writhes as Noctis bruises in the last step of their bonding. Only when Noctis is absolutely sure that it’ll stay there does he stop, pulling back to lick over the redden area. Then he kisses back up to Prompto’s mouth and starts rocking into Prompto again. 

He grinds in until he fills Prompto up a second time, then rolls Prompto over, spoons him from behind, and pounds into him until he shoots another load across the living room floor. Noctis buries his cry in the back of Prompto’s neck and pushes him over onto all fours. 

Noctis takes him there, then bent over the couch with his knees on the carpet, and then Prompto’s ass is too sore and red to take any more, so Noctis fucks his mouth instead. He seems eager to do it, full of nothing but glowing mewls and pleasured gasps. He winds up drenched in Noctis’ seed from head to toe, and it’s still not enough—something gnaws at the back of Noctis’ mind, telling him there’s still something missing, and he fills that hole up with sex and cum. 

He barely registers the sun going down, or even it coming up again, vaguely remembers drinking water right out of the sink and hobbling to the washroom, but mostly just plowing into Prompto. At one point, an inorganic noises rings, and Prompto mumbles something about _class_. But Noctis kisses that away and keeps on taking him. 

Even when Noctis passes out, he dreams of Prompto, cuddling with Ignis at his feet, both ripe and ready for the taking. 

Forever later, something stirs him, and he blinks his eyes open to the glaring afternoon sun. He’s facedown on the couch. 

Ignis is kneeling where the coffee table should be, scrubbing away with a rag and spray bottle. 

He pauses when he sees that Noctis is awake, then disappears, only to reappear with a glass of water. 

Noctis pushes up on one elbow just long enough to shakily down it. He swallows too fast, nearly chokes, and rasps, “Prom?”

“Unfortunately, he insisted on leaving,” Ignis answers, somehow looking perfectly reasonable even though Noctis feels like a train ran over him. “I suggested a shower, fed him properly, and made sure he got a taxi home. Don’t worry; I’m sure he enjoyed himself during your little escapade. He just seemed a tad... overwhelmed.”

Noctis’ heart sinks. His head’s ringing. He mumbles brokenly, “I should’ve called you.”

“Yes, you should have. I would have called the school to alert them to the both of you missing several classes, made sure you ate and drank properly, and arranged proper aftercare. I also would have _warned_ Prompto beforehand.”

The mention of Prompto at least reassures Noctis that Ignis isn’t exactly _jealous_ , although he still feels guilty. Maybe Ignis sees that, because he sighs and puts down his cleaning instruments. Shuffling closer, he leans in to gently nuzzle at Noctis’ face. 

He murmurs, “It’ll be alright, Noct. Everything is fine.”

It should be. Except Noctis has a hazy memory of throwing everything into chaos. He doesn’t want to admit how badly he messed up, but it’s not something he can hide from his partner. It still takes him a moment to manage, “Iggy, I... I fucked up.”

“It’s alright, Noct. These things happen.”

“No, I... I think I bit him. Like... a _bonding_ bite.”

Ignis pulls back to look at him. Noctis winces just from the judgment in Ignis’ eyes. 

But Ignis only releases another withered sigh, pushes up to his feet, and wanders off muttering, “You _boys_.”


	10. Wrap

They don’t get to talk, and it’s only partially because Prompto’s confused and overwhelmed and needs time to think. It’s mostly because Prompto doesn’t _have_ any time: he lost too much to Noctis’ rut, and he needs his portfolio ready _yesterday._ A few of his classmates laugh when their professor’s gone about just throwing whatever together and inventing artistic descriptions, but university isn’t a joke to Prompto. He worked too hard to be able to afford it. He genuinely wants to succeed in his field, and he wants to do it through his own talent and the credentials of this program. He wants to spend the weekend cuddling with Noctis on the couch, but they can do that another time—he _needs_ to have a good portfolio. 

A small, nagging voice in the back of his mind wonders if he’s a bad omega—shouldn’t he be giving it all up so he can be good for his alpha? He should be _making_ the time to talk to Noctis. But then he thinks of Ignis, how cool and intelligent and _independent_ Ignis is, and surely that’s what Noctis likes: omegas who have their own interests and work hard to achieve them. So he keeps putting his social life off in favour of his art. 

Only a few days before his last class, he gets a text from Ignis, simply asking if he’s okay. Ignis says he understands if Prompto still needs time, but he just wants to be sure that Prompto’s doing well. He also tells Prompto not to be offended if Noctis is even less communicative than normal—apparently, his program has the most exams of any in Insomnia, and Ignis is making sure that he studies properly for every single one. 

Prompto answers that he’s doing alright, also stressing over school but otherwise fine, and then he _almost_ types in: _“I miss you,”_ but he manages to stop himself short and delete that before sending it. 

Ignis replies with good wishes and good luck. That ends it. There aren’t even arrangements for more scenting, which is fine, because the smell of Noctis doesn’t seem to be dissipating half as quickly as it should be. Prompto doesn’t know if that’s because they had sex so hard and for so long or if it’s because of the bite. 

Thinking of the bite still makes him shake, and he shifts uncomfortably in his seat every time his collar rubs against it. It was a little sore the day after but has stopped hurting since. Now it’s just a dull reminder of what he wants but can’t _really_ have, because they’re on different paths, and their journey together is almost at its end. 

When the deadline for his portfolio comes up, he manages to submit his only just in time. He leaves his professor’s office with a mingled sense of anxiousness and elation. He thinks he did well, but he won’t know for certain until he gets his final grade in a month. He wants flying colours, but at worst, he’ll accept just enough to scrape by into next semester.

He tries to just focus on the positive: he’s done, he’s _free_ , and thinks maybe he’ll go get a pizza or something to celebrate. He hasn’t just _hung_ out around campus in a while. If he does fail, it’ll be his last chance. 

And not just for photography.

Thinking of Noctis makes his steps falter and his stomach twist. The collar feels like its shrinking around his throat. He’s still wearing it—never takes it off. He doesn’t want to give it up.

But he has to. It was in the contract he signed. Even if Noctis does want to keep him for next year, there’s still the summer in between. Noctis is amazing, and he _seems_ to want Prompto, but why wouldn’t he want the freedom to experiment over the next few months? And maybe he’ll want to try something new for the next semester, and Prompto won’t get the collar back at all. 

Prompto finds himself fingering the pendant at the front. He wonders vainly if he could keep it and just hope they never ask for it back. But Ignis wouldn’t approve of that. 

While he’s still hovering between the art department and main building, Prompto shakily pulls out his phone. It takes him several minutes to write out a text, stopping and erasing and restarting several times. Finally, he manages a blunt: _Where are you?_

Then he stares at the sent message, thinking how curt and rude that sounds. He doesn’t know how to fix it. He’s still staring when he gets an answer two minutes later: _Parking lot at uni. You?_

Prompto’s stomach churns. Sometimes other drivers chauffer Noctis when Ignis is busy, but nine times out of ten, it’s Ignis. And Prompto doesn’t know if he can face them both at once. He almost backs out, then considers saying what he wants via text, then finally sucks it up and says, _I’ll be there in a sec._

_?_

Prompto doesn’t answer again, just starts walking. He’s relieved when he spots Noctis alone on a bench outside the main building, staring blankly out across the half-empty lot. Ignis’ car isn’t around. Noctis gets up as soon as he sees Prompto, handsome face set in a curious frown. 

Prompto nervously approaches, only to mumble, “Hey. Uh. I hope I’m not bothering you or anything...”

“’Course not,” Noctis grunts. “I’ve always got time for you.”

“I mean, if Ignis is coming, I can—”

“Gladio stole him today. Nyx is supposed to be picking me up, but he must be held up or something—my exam finished thirty minutes ago.” 

“Oh. ...How’d it go? The exam, I mean...”

Noctis’ frown slips into a grin. “Last one, thank the Six. That’s all I care about. I’ve been so stressed over it...” The grin hesitates and falls away again. “I’m sorry, I haven’t called...”

“No, I haven’t either...”

“I just figured you wanted space, or... I don’t know...”

“It’s okay; I’ve been busy too.”

Noctis’ pocket vibrates—he stops to withdraw his phone, then announces, “The car’s here.” He looks up to add, “Want a ride?”

“Um... sure, thanks.”

“To my place?”

When Prompto takes too long to answer, Noctis switches to, “Sorry, never mind, we’ll just take you home—”

So Prompto jumps in, “No, sorry, yeah, I’d love to go to your place.”

Noctis washes over with visible relief. “Cool.”

He turns and starts walking, and Prompto follows, until they hit a gorgeous black car that looks like it’s right off the shop floor. Prompto hesitates before getting in, not knowing who ‘Nyx’ is, but Noctis tugs him in by the wrist and tells the driver, “Hey.”

The alpha in the front practically screams _glaive_ , and it’s not just the uniform: he’s almost as built as Gladiolus. His eyes flicker to Prompto in the rearview mirror, then to the collar around Prompto’s neck. Noctis confirms, “This is my other omega.”

“Alright,” the alpha accepts. His eyes return to the road, and he pulls out of the parking spot. “Sorry about the delay; Cor stopped me just after Ignis’ call.”

“Anything important?”

“Nothing to concern yourself with, Your Highness.”

“Cool.”

That seems to be that. They make the rest of the drive in silence, Noctis and Prompto mutually fidgeting and not making out like they would in Ignis’ car. Or like they would’ve before the bite. Now things are... _complicated_. 

They’re no clearer by the time they’re pulling up outside Noctis’ apartment building. He thanks the driver, climbs out, and escorts Prompto to the door. They’re still quiet on the way up the elevator. When they hit Noctis’ apartment, Noctis awkwardly asks, “Do you want anything? Um, water, or...”

“I’m fine.” His mouth is dry, but water’s not going to help that. With a deep breath, Prompto makes the executive decision to just get the painful talk over with. He heads for the couch, plops down, and promptly remembers the last time he was over and Noctis fucked him against the cushions. 

He’s sure he’s blushing. Noctis is blushing a little too as he comes to take a seat next to Prompto. 

Prompto searches for the right words, can’t think of them, and eventually just reaches for his throat. 

He unfastens the collar. The tiny noise of the opening latch seems to boom and echo through the apartment. He pulls it from his neck, squeezes it once, wants to hold onto it, and finally makes himself hand it to Noctis. After a few difficult seconds, Noctis takes it. His fists tighten around it, knuckles nearly going white. He stares at it a moment before turning his frown to Prompto. 

Prompto quietly asks, “Can we still be friends over the summer?”

“ _Friends_?” Noctis repeats. Prompto winces. He knows it’s not something they’ve ever really been, but he can still hope. 

He switches to, voice trembling, “Will you renew the sponsorship next year?” At Noctis’ suddenly dazed expression, Prompto loses everything and blurts, “I mean, I know I took it too far—I kept getting too involved, and I’m sure I made things complicated for you with Ignis, and I _really_ messed up—you were strong enough to realize that when Ignis had his heat, and I thought I could too; I didn’t tell you when I had mine a few months ago, but then I came over here when you were in rut and I just couldn’t leave—but I totally should’ve, or at least called Ignis; it wasn’t fair to you that I just stayed and... a-and _used_ you, and you even... you gave me a bite and I should’ve done something to make it fade, should’ve gotten creams or something, but instead I _savoured_ it even though I _know_ you’re not mine, and—”

Noctis looks like he wants to interrupt but instead just shoves the collar back into Prompto’s lap. It effectively shuts Prompto up. He half expects to be told to leave, and take the evidence, destroy it even: some kind of ultimate rejection. Noctis sucks in a breath and just says, “I’m sorry.”

Prompto’s heart sinks. “No, I’m sorry—”

“No, Prom, I’m _sorry_. This is all my fault. I’m the alpha. I’m supposed to take care of this shit, but when it got too real I just ignored it, and clearly you’ve been confused the whole time—”

“I’m not, I know I was wrong—”

“No, you were _right_! I mean, your instincts were right. Your thought process is totally _wrong_.”

Prompto shuts up again and resists the urge to whine. He feels like an alpha he respects has just insulted him and doesn’t, at first, understand the implications of what Noctis is saying. 

Noctis moves a hand to Prompto’s thigh, clamping down and squeezing once, which takes Prompto’s breath away and keeps him from rambling again. 

Noctis tells him, “I don’t want you to give your collar back, Prom. And I don’t want to be friends with you over the summer. At least, not _just_ friends. I want...” He falters. In a way, it’s sort of comforting to see that he’s clearly having as much trouble articulating this as Prompto is. “I want to be more than that. I want you to be my omega. Like, a _real_ one, not just a temporary thing for school. I want to get you a permanent collar, and have you keep wearing this one in the meantime.”

Prompto’s whole body feels numb. He can’t do anything but gape. Finally, he squeaks, “But Ignis...”

“Ignis likes you, Prompto. A _lot_. He wants you in our pack. If I’d listened to him, well... we probably would’ve had this conversation a long time ago.”

Prompto weakly mumbles, “I like him too.”

The corner of Noctis’ lips quirk up. “Good, because he’s not going anywhere.”

“Are you sure?”

“No, Prom, I’m fucking with you for shits and giggles.”

Prompto wakes up enough to punch Noctis’ arm, which results in a warm chuckle and the assurance, “Of course I’m _sure_. Seriously, I’m sorry I didn’t say anything earlier—I really thought _you_ just wanted it to be a temporary thing!”

“Why _wouldn’t_ I want to be yours? You’re the freakin’ prince, for fuck’s sake!”

“Yeah, but you don’t seem to care about that.”

“I don’t, but I mean, you’re _fun_ too, and you’re super hot, and you’re the best backup in King’s Knight I’ve ever had...”

“Yeah, that’s how I feel about you.”

“But you had Ignis, so I thought...”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, I thought that too. Turns out monogamy only works when you don’t run into an amazing third.”

Prompto almost play-punches Noctis again but instead just winds up holding onto his shoulders for dear life. Prompto feels like he needs that support to stop himself from slipping off the couch and onto the floor in a big boneless puddle of mushy ecstasy.

Noctis reaches into his lap and nudges the collar, making an obvious hint. Prompto almost laughs. His neck feels empty and exposed without it, but he doesn’t mind showing off the remnants of Noctis’ bite. He picks the collar back up, but instead of putting it on, asks, “Can you...?”

Noctis grins and takes it. 

It brings Prompto back to when they first started, Noctis shuffling in and watching Prompto’s eyes as he curls the thick band around Prompto’s throat. He remembers it well, because he made an effort to brand the memory into his mind: he never wanted to forget the first time he received the mark of Noctis’ attention. Noctis affords him the same reverence now, applying it carefully and fastening it properly, then tracing the edges to check that it’s not too tight. When it’s on properly, Noctis curls his fingers under Prompto’s chin and turns him—Prompto follows the gentle guidance to Noctis’ mouth. 

They kiss unusually chastely: calm and slow, just luxuriating in that first kiss they share with complete understanding. All the hesitance and anxieties can fall away. Prompto finally knows where he stands, and it’s right where he wants to be. 

He throws his knees up over Noctis’ lap, turning his whole body to press into Noctis’, and Noctis loops an arm around his middle and drags them closer. Their kiss becomes more heated, deeper, Noctis’ tongue plunging into Prompto’s mouth and his hand cradling the back of Prompto’s head. Prompto cocoons himself around Noctis and won’t let go. 

One kiss spills into another, hands start roaming, Prompto dares to touch all the places he’d normally avoid out of fear or propriety. It suddenly occurs to him that they do have to think about appropriateness—Noctis is _the prince_ —should he have his omegas approved by a council or something first? He knows Ignis already ran a background check on him at the very beginning, but this is so much deeper. Noctis doesn’t seem to be worried about it. So Prompto tries not to think about it either. He thinks Ignis is, technically, a commoner like him. And everybody seems to like Ignis. 

Prompto misses Ignis, and he’s pleased when he hears the door open, because it could only be one person. 

Noctis stops devouring Prompto’s mouth long enough to glance towards the hallway. Ignis wanders in, stops, comes forward again, drops his briefcase on the coffee table, and smiles warmly at Prompto. He offers, “It’s good to see you.”

Prompto wants to run into Ignis’ arms, but he still feels guilty about stealing Ignis’ alpha, so instead he sheepishly waits for Noctis’ signal. Noctis admits right away, “I asked Prompto to be mine.”

“And I assume he said yes,” Ignis deduces.

Noctis’ arm tightens around Prompto’s waist. He answers proudly, “Yup.”

To Prompto’s immense relief, Ignis looks perfectly content with that. He even strolls around the coffee table on Prompto’s side, leans down, and nuzzles into Prompto’s cheek. He purrs across Prompto’s lips, “Welcome to the pack.”

Prompto absolutely melts. He giddily reaches for Ignis’ shoulders, trying to tug Ignis down to join them. Noctis interrupts, “Can you drive us to the store, Iggy? I wanna get him a permanent collar as soon as possible.”

Ignis doesn’t even look at Noctis; his eyes stay glued on Prompto. “Perhaps later. First, I want to enjoy my new packmate too.”

Noctis snorts and makes no protest as Ignis tilts his head and brushes a kiss over Prompto’s lips, one that Prompto eagerly opens up for. He sucks on Ignis’ tongue and moans into Ignis’ mouth when he feels Noctis nipping at his cheek. 

He only stops when Noctis climbs off the couch. Then he looks over, whining at the loss, only to have his wrist taken hold of. Noctis grabs Ignis too and starts tugging both of them towards the bedroom.

Prompto’s never been so _happy_.


End file.
